The Second War
by cariaudry
Summary: The second war is not going well for either shadowhunters or wizards, with Valentine's defeat on the boat and Voldemort's defeat at the Ministry doing very little to end the struggle. When Voldemort learns of Clary and Jace's strange gifts, he sends his Death Eaters after them, and Dumbledore has no choice but to bring them to Hogwarts.
1. The Dark Lord's Prize

**So, I'm back! I'm trying out a Harry Potter crossover, and I'm really excited. As much as I hate non-cannon, I've made Sirius Black alive in this for a few different reasons and I hope it doesn't mess anything up! But, hey, who doesn't like Sirius? As usual, I will try to update this once a week, and I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for reading!**

The Dark Lord's Prize

_We are only as strong as we are united, weak as we are divided_

_-Albus Dumbledore_

The Hogwarts castle stood alone and dark on its mountain side, a testament now to the workings of magic more than Muggle engineering. It seemed completely removed from the world around it, and in some cases, it was, but there was the feel of emptiness, of desolation, of, what the students of the castle referred to as, summer vacation. The windows were blank save for one, located in one of the top most towers, jutting precariously out of another.

This was the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, and Albus Dumbledore was currently seated behind his desk, reading a role of parchment, his fingers pressed together to form small pyramids.

"…wife lives, yes, we should have known," he muttered distractedly. "Took the girl with her, too."

He sat a while, reading the letter, and when he had completed it, simply leaned back to consider it. _Changes things, of course. We can't have innocent children running around a city that size with no proper guard, though how I'm going to convince them of the truth is well beyond me._ His blue eyes flicked over a name once more. _Lightwood._

Slowly, he rose from his desk and began pacing about the room. Once in a while, one of the occupants of the paintings would snore in their sleep or mutter a few words of nonsense, but aside from that, the silence was complete. After some time, Dumbledore moved to the wall covered in books and began perusing titles, pausing on possible ones then discarding them. He doubted whether the book he wanted was here. He supposed he'd have to stop by the library the next day.

_The Ministry kept records of these things, and his name isn't Lightwood-_

A soft knocking on the door drew Dumbledore from his thoughts and glanced up. He flicked his wand and the lock on the door clicked before returning to his steady pacing and thoughts. "Hello, Severus," he said absently.

"Headmaster," Snape returned watching Dumbledore's preoccupied walk. "Come at a bad time?"

"As bad as any, I would think," Dumbledore said lightly and stopped his pacing before sighing heavily and returning to his desk. "You received my letter then?"

Snape looked rather loath to discuss the message. "Don't you think Fawks is bit much to be sending my way? I'm a _Death Eater_, after all. Should I really be receiving letters from _Albus Dumbledore's _pet phoenix?"

"We must keep up the masquerade that I trust you and do not suspect you of being a Death Eater," replied Dumbledore smoothly. "Besides, Fawks is an excellent currier, far better than an owl."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." When Dumbledore said nothing but stared at him, Snape took a seat across from him and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "So, I trust you received _my _letter then?"

Dumbledore held up the parchment. "Where did you hear this, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord himself," Snape said sharply. "There was a gathering not two weeks ago at Malfoy Manner. He was present."

"I didn't know Voldemort made a point of attending such meetings," Dumbledore said, his eyes never leaving Snape's face. "Are you sure he isn't just trying to draw you out, see if you pass the information along to me?"

"The meeting wasn't for my benefit," Snape answered. "He's asked the Lestranges to apprehend them. I was merely present by circumstance."

"The Lestranges?" Dumbledore's face darkened markedly. "He must be very interested in them if he's sending the best of his Death Eaters out."

"He didn't really express any interest in them aside from the circumstances of their birth," Snape shrugged. "I haven't a clue."

"I have," Dumbledore said heavily. "Do you know who Valentine Morgenstern is?"

"That's not a wizard name I've ever heard."

"It wouldn't be." Dumbledore paused, thinking. "He's a shadowhunter."

At this, Snape sneered. "A shadowhunter? What does the Dark Lord want with them? They are hardly worth our time."

"Well, Voldemort must have some reason for his interest in them," Dumbledore said, his eyes glowing. "While I admit they do not pose an immediate threat to him-"

"They pose an immediate threat to no one," Snape interjected. "They strut around, with their swords and daggers, and they think they have some secret gift. It's a joke, Dumbledore, a joke. As if their weapons are better than our magic."

"I'm not saying it is." Dumbledore paused. The enmity between wizard and shadowhunter ran far deeper than he remembered, but that was why the Clave and Ministry hardly ever interacted. "However, it stands to reason that Voldemort would want to remove any obstacles from his path, shadowhunters included. They might not be a threat to him, but they will certainly prove an annoyance down the road. A sizeable army of them could cause him quite a bit of trouble."

"What are you getting at?"

"I believe that Voldemort's current preoccupation with the shadowhunters stems from his belief that they could be far more useful as servants than enemies."

"From what I recall of History of Magic class," Snape said with a sardonic smile, "the shadowhunters were never one to side with a dark wizard."

"Yes, well, that's why it would behoove him to see if he can't turn them to his uses now, before they become a threat."

Snape blinked. "Who is Valentine Morgenstern then?"

Dumbledore smiled. "What do you recall form History of Magic class?" When Snape continued to look nonplussed, he waved his hand. "It was after your time, I'm sure, and hardly reported in the _Daily Prophet_." Dumbledore glanced down at the parchment again. "I believe some seventeen years ago, right around the first rise of Voldemort, a young, strong-headed shadowhunter but the name of Valentine Morgenstern began to gather follows to him, under the guise of political reformation of the Clave."

"Clave?"

"The governing body of shadowhunters," Dumbledore supplied. "His real intentions were somewhat more sinister, but, since we were dealing with our own troubles, the Ministry could hardly spare a witch or wizard to help. He was quite the firebrand, I'm told, and perhaps unstable mentally, and it might explain his plot to overthrow the Clave with nothing but a motley band of young shadowhunters at his back." Dumbledore chuckled as if the Uprising were of little consequence to him. "He failed, to say the least, and his Circle was disbanded, but he disappeared."

"Do you think the Dark Lord wants him to join us?" Snape asked, eyes gleaming.

"I do not," said Dumbledore. "I think he wants to kill Valentine Morgenstern, but first, make an example of him. Valentine has some very interesting children, Severus."

"A son, a daughter, and a step-son," Snape said blankly. "Jonathan, Clarissa, and Jonathan."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "They are…_unique_. The Ministry was keeping tabs on him, of course, and it came up quite quickly that he had dosed his children with substances that would enhance their skills in battle. Experiments to see if he couldn't make a better warrior."

Snape's lip curled. "He could win father of the year, I expect."

"His son, Jonathan, he dosed with demon blood, or some such substance. As a result, his son is cruel, heartless, and sadistic. Personally, I think what he was given was some form of powerful love potion, rendering the boy unable to love, not unlike a certain Dark wizard we are currently dealing with, but…I digress. To the step-son, Jonathan, he gave angel blood, and so the boy became empathetic, charismatic, and quite skilled with a blade. The daughter, he didn't know he even had; she was still in the womb when her mother left Valentine, not knowing her daughter had been dosed with angel blood." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Three exceptional children, three dangerous children, if given half a chance."

"But the Dark Lord does not want them dead, and if they pose so much danger to him, he would certainly want them removed." Snape seemed to find Dumbledore's story rather boring. "I can't imagine what he would want with them."

"Surely, Severus, it is obvious? Children with incredible powers of destruction, completely in his control? They could be very dangerous weapons if he could turn their skills to his purposes."

This seemed disconcerting to Snape, who shifted in his seat. "He only wanted the girl and step son."

"Jonathan is far too unstable," Dumbledore said smoothly. "The demon blood he was given left him completely devoid of all human emotions. He has no ability to empathize or understand others, and so he is useless to Voldemort. He cannot be controlled unless by a very strong Imperious curse, and I think Voldemort will be too busy with the other Jonathan and Clarissa. They would at least prove bendable to his will at the threat of danger to their loved ones, I think."

"He wants the two younger ones then because they are easier to control?" Snape sounded as though the idea were a repulsive insect that he had found creeping over his arm. "And how will they help him handle the shadowhunters?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "As to that, I do not know, it could be that he could turn them against their own, but we can assume that his knowledge of the shadowhunter race will grow if he has these two children in his grasp. Knowledge is power, and in this case, it is something we don't want him to have."

"So, what are you proposing Dumbledore?"

"I think the most obvious thing is to first locate these two children. We must do it before Voldemort. Does he have any idea where the children are?"

Again, Snape shifted uncomfortably once more. "He doesn't know yet, but he believes they can be found soon. I think the Lestranges are going to the London Institute to look for leads."

"We'll have to beat them to it then," Dumbledore said decidedly. "I think the Ministry will have kept records on the whereabouts of such children."

"Do we have contacts in the Ministry who can find their files?" Snape asked. "Where would they even keep them?"

"They are kept in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, of course, and, since I am newly returned to my position in the International Confederation of Wizards, I will procure the files."

Snape watched Dumbledore a moment. "What will become of them?"

Here, Dumbledore dropped his gaze and sighed heavily. "We will have to move them immediately; perhaps for a little bit to Grimmauld Place."

"You can't expect to keep two teenagers cooped up in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Black almost went stir crazy himself, and he was an adult."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked up to Snape. "No, it's only a temporary measure at best. I thought perhaps to move them here once the semester began. There's certainly no safer place for them to be."

Snape's eyebrows raised dubiously. "Shadowhunters at Hogwarts?"

"Our magic is not so different from their runes," said Dumbledore simply. "I think they could get along quite well here. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have more protection on the castle."

"Shadowhunters don't use wands to the best of my knowledge," Snape observed dryly.

"They can be taught. Their runes direct magic _through_ them, while our wands direct magic through _them_, if you catch my drift. The skill is not beyond them to learn. I think they might even prove most exceptional in casting spells silently."

Snape looked away. Like most wizards, he had a deep distrust of the shadowhunters. "You will be hard put to convince their parents to let them go."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed and Snape saw a shadow of the true man he was. "Their parents will do what is right for them and send them to safety."

"I'll inform the Order of your wishes then. How soon can you get their files?" asked Snape, resigned to two more undesired students at the school.

"I have an appointment tomorrow. I'll give them to you to take to Grimmauld Place directly after." Dumbledore rose once more and turned to look out the window at the dark school grounds. "We'll need some of the best from the Advance Guard since there will be the added danger of unruly shadowhunters and demons; see if Alastor is up for a long journey, perhaps Remus-we'll need a good voice of reason-maybe Ms. Tonks…and Sirius."

"You think it _wise_ to send Black?" Snape's lip curled. "His narrows escape from the Ministry and his newly attained status of vindication has only fueled his recklessness."

"He's been waiting for an opportunity to stretch his legs, and you can't deny, though I know you wish to, that he is quite skilled." Dumbledore turned to face Snape, who had also risen and was looking bored again. "On your way, Severus."

Snape bowed slightly before saying, "If the Dark Lord has already sent the Lestranges, we may be too late to save the shadowhunter children."

"Then let us hope we have acted in time," said Dumbledore gravely, and his eyes seemed to darken perceptibly. "Good evening, Severus."

Severus turned to go and Dumbledore moved slowly back to the shelf of books, taking a cursory glance over the titles. A few seemed hopeful, and he removed them, flipping through them absently. Dumbledore had studied shadowhunter history at length as a young man, his interest purely in their governing body and their laws because it had been important for diplomacy. It was a well known fact that the Ministry of Magic, unlike all other magical counsels, was outside the law of the Clave, and operated as its own entity. The Clave, unable to claim dominion, simple pretended that the wizards and witches and Ministry did not exist. Now, however, his curiosity was turned to their culture and genealogy, and he searched for a few choice names.

_Lightwood…why Lightwood, that name was Herondale. _Dumbledore's finger traced a family tree. _Imogren Herondale, mother of Stephen Herondale, who was married to Celine and bore one child. But Lightwood? _Dumbledore closed the book with a snap and sat back in his chair, eyes closed. _It will all sort itself in the end, but not until we bring them here._

* * *

"What are you lot up to?" Ginny demanded, her hands on her hip as Ron and Harry busied themselves with something. "What have you got?"

"Shove off," Ron snapped back in a whisper, saw her face, and added "or shut up."

Hermione, taking pity on Ginny, tugged her shirt. "Big Order meeting. Snape showed up about thirty minutes ago, then Remus and Tonks, then Kingsley Shaklebolt, then Moody, and finally Sirius. They locked themselves in the kitchen about five minutes ago."

Ginny's eyebrows were raised. "You reckon there's been an attack somewhere?"

"No, we'd have heard about it," said Harry, finally untangling an Extendable Ear and flourishing it victoriously. "But I bet whatever it is, it's important; after all, Snape is spying on Voldemort, right? So if he's here giving evidence it must be something about him or his Death Eaters."

"Makes me wish Fred and George were here," said Ginny wistfully. "They're old enough to be in the Order, and I bet they'd tell us what was going on."

Ron gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, if they wanted Mum burying them in the back garden."

"I was just saying-" Ginny began hotly, but Harry shushed them both and slowly lowered the Ear so that it hung before the door

"Let's have a listen, shall we?" said Harry with a smile, and the four of them leaned in.

"…aren't interested in our help, are they? They get on right well without our lot in their business." It was Mundugus, who had been lurking around the house for dinner when the Order had showed up. "What's Dumbledore want to go getting mixed up in _their lot_ for?"

Just the way he said it reminded Harry of the Dursley's snobbish attitude toward the wizarding community, and he wondered who this new _they _were.

"Dumbledore has expressed an interest in two of them, and, since we work for Dumbledore, it is not our job to wonder why he does what he does; our job is do what he says," said Snape with a sneer.

"Besides, Mundugus," said Lupin in his usual measured voice, "these are children we're talking about. Regardless of who they are or where they're from, we have a duty to protect the innocent."

"I'd be careful who you're calling innocent," returned Mundugus. "Valentine being the boy's father and all."

"And what's that got to do with it?" It was Sirius, and he sounded angry. "You want to judge people because of their family, you're picking the wrong house to do it in."

"Meant no offense, Sirius," said Mundugus quickly. "I'm just saying, can you trust a boy been raised by a man like that?"

"He was hardly raised by Valentine," said Lupin. "He left when he was ten and was taken to this…Lightwood family."

Mundugus had nothing to say to that, and there was a bit of murmuring among the members. Mrs. Weasley spoke over the murmuring. "What's going to happen to them if they're brought here?"

"Dumbledore thinks it is best to enroll them Hogwarts," answered Snape. "They will certainly be safe enough within the castle walls and with the Order guarding them."

"Hogwarts?" Mrs. Weasley asked loudly. "You can't send them to a school full of wizards and witches; they don't belong in a place like that."

"Dumbledore thinks otherwise," said Snape.

"Come on, Molly, where else would we put them?" asked Kingsley. "You want to keep two shadowhunters cooped up in this place?"

Back on the landing above the kitchen door, Hermione gave a gasp or surprise and Harry and Ron threw her angry looks. She smiled apologetically and covered her mouth, but her eyes were gleaming with unspoken knowledge.

"…even know where they are?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"The boy, he was taken to live with his godparents in New York City," recited Kingsley, flipping a piece of paper over. "The girl is with her mother, also in New York City."

"Long flight," said Sirius, but he sounded more excited than dispirited by the news he'd be traveling to a different country. "You think Voldemort is really willing to travel so far for two children?"

"He's already put the Lestranges on their trail," said Moody gruffly. "Sounds like he's pretty interested in these two. Best move soon if we want to get to them before he does."

"Dumbledore's sentiments exactly."

"You interested in a long flight, Tonks? Remus?" Moody asked.

"I've got nothing planned," said Tonks carelessly and Lupin must have nodded because Moody sounded pleased when he spoke next.

"I think the real challenge will be convincing their parents to let them go," Moody said casually. "Don't think shadowhunters ever appreciated the threat Voldemort posed."

Sirius laughed darkly. "They pretend he doesn't even exist."

"Do they really?" asked Tonks keenly.

"You never heard about it, Tonks?" Moody replied, a smile in his voice. "Yeah, that lot likes to think they've got this world in their hands, except for the Ministry of course. When Voldemort first started rising up, their lot tried to settle it down. You can imagine what he did to them, given their methods. Now, they don't even bother teaching their children about it. Leave Voldemort to us, is what they do."

"Suppose this will be a rude awakening," said Mundugus darkly.

"Well, they've had their own worries," said Lupin fairly. "Back around the first war they had their own problem with Valentine Morgenstern. They were spread pretty far and thin at that point."

"We could have handled Valentine," said Moody in return, and he sounded annoyed. "They just didn't want our help."

"Stuck up, it's what they are," added Mundugus.

"Regardless," said Kingsley, speaking loudly. "This is a new war and a new threat. We'll just have to convince the parents is all; we can't leave two children to face the wrath of Voldemort alone."

"We'll leave tomorrow then," said Moody. "At first light. I'm sure Dumbledore can get us a portkey across the Atlantic and we'll fly the rest of the way."

"I guess we'll stay the night then," said Lupin.

"Lovely, I've almost got dinner ready," said Mrs. Weasley.

"What are we having?" asked Tonks brightly as chairs scarped the floor.

"Roast chicken…"

Harry had jerked the Ear back and was already stuffing it into his pockets as he and the others rushed up the stairs to avoid being caught. They'd just cleared the landing on the second floor when the door to the kitchen was opened and Snape emerged, donning his cloak. They waited, not daring to move in case he heard them and wondered what they were all doing in one place, just above the kitchen. He passed on to the door without a word and vanished into the night, and they hurried up the next flight of stairs to the girls' room.

"What was that about?" Ron wondered, plopping down on Ginny's bed and looking from Harry to Hermione. "Shadowhunters?"

"No clue," said Harry with a shrug.

"You two really should pay more attention in History of Magic," said Hermione in an airy voice.

"Why, when we've got you here to recite it all?" asked Ron and Ginny and Harry both shared a smile.

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms. "Shadowhunters are a race of warriors who were charged with the protection of the human race, and who are highly trained, rather dangerous, and very secretive. They have a governing body, the Clave, and are spread out throughout the entire world, keeping an eye on the magical races."

Harry was impressed with Hermione's usual knowledge of all things near and far. "Are they associated with the Ministry?"

Hermione smiled. "Not at all. You heard Moody, they pretend we don't exist."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because the Clave thinks _they're _the highest authority in the land and don't like that they can't control the Ministry." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's ridiculous, really. They're got this insane notion that they're half-human, half-_angel_ hybrids and it's god's will that they protect the world."

Ron snorted. "Modest lot, aren't they?"

"It's why they don't like us," Hermione explained. "I mean, they use the most archaic methods of battle, swords, daggers, and bows and arrows and such, and it has no effect on our magic, of course, so it's like some big affront to them, and they get all mad about it and refuse to communicate with the Ministry."

"Bet it got them far with Voldemort," Harry said wryly.

"Not at all. In fact, a bunch of them died during the first war. They thought they could handle the situation and, well…_honestly_, who would try running a great sword through Voldemort anyway!"

Harry found the idea odd. "Well, it sounds like he's interested in them now, and like we're going to have two of them as classmates at Hogwarts."

Hermione sat down and looked thoughtful. "I suppose it's possible for shadowhunters to learn magic, but I've never heard of it."

"What do you make of the whole Valentine thing?" said Ron. "They mentioned that bloke, and the boy they were talking about, they said Valentine was his father."

"Valentine Morgenstern was a shadowhunter," supplied Hermione. "He was really bad, though, kind of like Voldemort is to us. He started a war, and everyone thought he died, but I guess not if he had kids."

"Then do we really want his kids here?" Ron asked.

"You sound like Mundugus," said Ginny sharply. "It doesn't matter who their father is, they're in danger and they're children."

Harry cast Ginny an approving look and she stared back at him. "I guess it doesn't matter what we think, since they're leaving tomorrow to get them. We'll meet them soon."

"Well, that'll be interesting, though, won't it?" said Hermione with some hope. "I bet no one our age gets to live with shadowhunters."

"Wonder why Voldemort's after them though," said Harry thoughtfully. "Wonder what he wants with them."

* * *

"They've been attacked!" cried a voice, and Harry sat bolt upright, scrambling for his glasses and his wand. "We've just got word, Death Eaters and werewolves, swarming the place!"

"Ron, wake up!" But Ron was already awake, and he was fighting his blankets to get out of bed.

"What's happened?" Ron asked as he flicked the light on in their room. "What's going on?"

"No idea, let's get downstairs," said Harry and hurried for the door. In the hall, Hermione and Ginny were rushing from their own room toward Harry and Ron.

"What's going on?" Hermione gasped, skidding to halt against Ron. "Is it the Order?"

"Downstairs," said Harry again, and they piled down the tight stairwell.

The scene in the hall was chaotic. Members of the Order who had stayed the night were struggling from their bed clothes into robes, other were apparating with loud _pops _every few seconds. Mrs. Weasley was crying out to Mr. Weasley and Moody was screaming orders. Wands were out, brooms were appearing. And above it all, Mrs. Black was bellowing at the top of her voice.

"Just got the message!" cried Tonks. "The Institute!"

"Werewolves and Death Eaters-"

"Institute!"

"Disgraces of blood, ravaging my house!" Mrs. Black crowed.

"Down in London!"

"Dumbledore called us in!"

"Mudbloods and filth!"

"It's on fire!"

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, what are you doing here?" Mrs. Weasley was hurrying up the stairs toward them, as if trying to hide the scene below. "You should be in bed, you've got nothing to worry about."

"What's on fire?" Ginny demanded. "It is one of our allies?"

"No, it's nothing like that," said Mrs. Weasley quickly, patting her head. "Just go back to bed."

"Sirius, what's going on?" Harry demanded, pushing past Mrs. Weasley and stumbling down to meet his godfather.

"Harry!" Sirius said, clasping his shoulder and pulling him aside. He was in his robes, his wand was out, and he had broom beside him. "You need to stay here, alright? I've got to go, there's been an attack, and then I'm leaving straight away for business for the Order."

"Is it the shadowhunters?" Harry asked at once.

Sirius caught his eye and smiled fleetingly. "Couldn't keep you away, could we?" He winked. "You're right, yes. The London Institute has been attacked-it's the shadowhunters home-and we think it's in connection with the two we're going to find. We're going to see if we can help, and then a few of us are leaving tonight for New York. You need to stay here, though, and be safe."

"I want to come with you," Harry said at once.

"No, Harry," said Sirius, and his voice was final. "If we've any hope of finding these two, it'll be in secrecy, and having you with us will only alert Voldemort anyway, forget the amount of danger you'll be in. No, stay here and listen to Mrs. Weasley while I'm gone."

"But, Sirius-"

"Harry, please," he said, and squeezed his shoulder. "When you're older, you and I can battle Death Eaters as much as you want, and we'll do it together, but not now."

Harry looked away. "I hate being left behind."

"I know that, Harry," said Sirius, and he really meant it. "But I'm your godfather, and I knew James and Lily would never forgive me if I took their son on the hunt for two wayward shadowhunters."

Harry looked at the mess around him. "You'll be careful?"

Sirius smiled, hoisting his broom. "Careful is my middle name."


	2. Secrets at the Door

**Hey, thought I'd get this out a little early since it was just sitting on my computer. Hope you like it!**

Secrets at the Door

"_The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."_

_-Albus Dumbledore_

"Jace, Alec, Isabelle! I saw the _weirdest _thing!" It was Max, panting from running the length of the Institute and skidding to a halt outside Alec's room where his siblings were secreted away. "You won't _believe_-"

"Max, we're busy," said Isabelle, standing to close the door. "Shouldn't you be reading or something?"

"Listen to me!" Max cried, standing in the way of the door. "There were these two men, and they were dressed in _robes_, and they had _accents_, and one of them had a metal leg and a huge black dog!"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Yes, alright, Max, now get out of here."

"It's real, I saw it! He had a metal leg and big hat and he and the other man were talking to the dog, and they were going with Mom to the library." Isabelle was on the verge of pushing Max out of the door when she paused to stare at him.

"In the library?"

"Yes," Max practically cried. "And the dog, when I was watching in the hall, it must have smelled me because it turned around and looked at me. And it _winked_. The dog winked at me!"

Jace was up off the bed now, looking closely at Max. "Are you sure it was a dog?"

"What else could it be?" Max wondered, and looked from Alec to Jace. "Who are they?"

"Maybe they're here to look at Dad?" Alec wondered.

It was only a few days after their battle on the boat with Valentine, and Robert Lightwood was still confined to the hospital wing. The Clave had mentioned sending someone to come and look him over, just to check to see that he was alright and on the mend. However, the description Max had given of two men and a winking dog didn't fit the normal mold for Clave members. Jace raised one eyebrow.

"You said they were in the library?" he asked.

Max straightened up at having been addressed by Jace. "Yep. Saw Mom take them in there myself."

"We can listen through the door," Jace hedged, but his eyes were gleaming and Isabelle already knew what he was planning. "If we hurry we might not miss much."

It was like being children again, spying on their parents at keyholes. Jace led the way, followed by Max clinging to his pant leg, Isabelle shaking with excitement, and Alec, who seemed very disapproving but having no choice, was bringing up the rear. They arrived at the huge doors to the library and Jace flicked out a stele before piercing a small hole in the door, allowing the voices from within to pour out.

"…forgive me, I don't understand quite why you're here," Maryse said evenly.

"You are Maryse Lightwood, married to Robert Lightwood, and mother of Alexander, Isabelle, and Maxwell, godmother of Jonathan?" Jace cringed at the use of the name only Valentine used but continued listening. "It's quite urgent we discuss a matter concerning Jonathan."

"How is it always about you?" Alec asked, shaking his head.

Maryse was quiet a moment. "I'm really not in the mood to entertain any more accusations from the Clave concerning my son, Jonathan. We've only just had to suffer the wrath of the late Inquisitor Herondale and have no intention of-"

"Herondale?" said a sharp, gruff voice.

"Yes," said Maryse slowly. "Imogren Herondale was the last Inquisitor, but she was slain in battle. I'm sure you've heard."

"We hadn't," said the other man, who sounded, oddly enough, tired. "We are not members of the Clave, and so are not usually up to date on their news."

"Who are they?" Isabelle asked, pressing closer to the door, but Jace shot her a look.

Maryse was silent another moment. "You could not have entered this building with the intention to do harm, but I do not know who you are. Your names?"

The man cleared his throat. "Remus Lupin."

"Moody," grunted the other man, and said no more.

"Any particular reason you've brought a dog?" Maryse asked, her voice dripped sarcasm.

There was a smile in Lupin's voice when he said, "Well, he's an _exceptionally_ well trained guard dog."

Maryse sniffed. "We have a cat."

"Well, I can assure you, he won't chase it." The man, Moody, seemed to find this extremely amusing, because he chuckled. Lupin continued, "As I was saying, we're not members of the Clave, and so are not really here on Clave business."

"Then why are you here?" asked Maryse crisply. "I'm rather busy at the moment and not really in the mood for seeing company."

"An unfortunate errand, I'm afraid," said Lupin, and Jace narrowed his eyes. "I trust you have heard of the Ministry of Magic?"

_Ministry of Magic?_ Jace wondered, the name completely foreign to him. _What the hell is a Ministry of Magic and what do they want with me? _He looked to Alec, wondering if Magnus had mentioned it, but Alec looked just as confused as he was.

"In passing," said Maryse, and she sounded sharp, like she barely opened her mouth. "I take it you are wizards, then? Are you from there?"

"No quite," said Lupin, and the other man laughed again. "However, part of our reason for being here does stem from the Ministry. I do not wish to shock you, but a, er…situation, has arisen in our world, and it seems to be spilling over into yours."

"Situation?" Maryse sounded disdainful, and Jace felt himself smile at her disinterest. He'd never met anyone so severe whose merest look could put you in your place.

"I believe you are familiar with a wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort?" Lupin asked.

Jace couldn't help but snort. "Lord Voldemort?" he asked his siblings. "Of all the names you could pick, it was _that one_?"

"…heard of him. Wasn't there a bit of fracas with him some years ago?" She sounded completely disinterested.

This time, it wasn't Lupin who answered, but Moody, and Jace and the Lightwoods were surprised by the venom in his tone. "It wasn't a _fracas, _ma'am, but a war, and a war, I'll remind you, that your precious _Clave_ was too cowardly to take part in. Guess I can't blame them, though, after all those shadowhunters died trying to fight Death Eaters with swords. Never heard of something so stupid in my _life_…"

"How dare you-"

"Alastor!" said Lupin sharply, and the dog growled.

"It's the truth!" Moody said loudly. "You sit there, pretending you haven't got a clue what we're talking about, like it's beneath you because you've got your own _little problems_ to deal with. Well, let's get something clear, Mrs. Lightwood, if Lord Voldemort wins this war, it won't matter what Valentine Morgenstern does now because he'll be _dead_ and so will the rest of you!

"You lot have got no protection against wizarding types. No, you leave that up to us to take care of. We're the ones out there, risking our necks for people, but you can't even swallow your pride long enough to thank us. You bury your heads in the sand, and you think if you don't see it, it won't see you! Well, Lord Voldemort sees a lot, and seeing _you_ right now."

Maryse was very quiet after this, and Jace had time to review what he'd heard. _No protection against wizarding types? We fight rouge warlocks all the time, and as for protecting people, we're the only ones that ever done that! _He looked back to Isabelle, whose eyes were flashing at someone addressing her mother and her people that way, and Alec, who was pale. "Any idea what he's talking about?"

"Mom better teach him some manners or I will," hissed Isabelle, and her hand rested on her bracelet.

"I was under the impression that your Ministry was taking care of such occurrences?" said Maryse in a cool voice.

"Well, we were getting to that," said Lupin, his voice always calm, always tired. "There was a bit of mess last year with the previous Minister, Cornelius Fudge. The truth wasn't let out that Lord Voldemort had returned, and has been gaining strength for over a year now. It's only recently been out in the open, which is why we're here now."

"On behalf of the Ministry?"

"On behalf of Albus Dumbledore," replied Lupin. "I take it you've heard the name before?"

"I sure as hell haven't," said Jace with a smirk.

"Briefly," said Maryse. "I thought he worked for the Ministry."

"Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock of the Wizenzamot and the Supreme Mugwump, however, his preferred status is that of the Headmaster of Hogwarts." The names washed over Isabelle, Alec, Max, and Jace like a wave, and none of them made any sense. Alec raised one eyebrow to Jace. "And, consequently, the founder and leader of a group of wizards and witches who have sworn to fight Lord Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix. It is our involvement in the Order that has brought us here today."

"I've never heard of the Order," observed Maryse.

"You wouldn't have," said Lupin. "It was never a public thing. However, with the reemergence of Lord Voldemort, we have reformed and are once again doing all in our power to stop him."

"Dumbledore sent you then?" Maryse asked, and she sounded unsettled. "Having something to do with Lord Voldemort?"

"You can imagine that any Dark wizard would be opposed to the Clave," said Lupin, not unkindly. "And though the Clave successfully avoided the wrath of Lord Voldemort before, Dumbledore does not think he will turn a blind eye to you anymore. A threat has been made."

Maryse was quiet for another long moment. "The Clave can defend itself well enough."

"You can't believe that," said Lupin reasonably. "Not after what history shows us."

"The Clave has since strengthened its defenses, and will be more than ready when Lord Voldemort comes."

"It's not the Clave," said Lupin softly, "that has been threatened."

"You said-"

"I said Lord Voldemort will not turn a blind eye to you anymore, but I didn't say the threat had been issued to the Clave."

Jace didn't quite understand. He had grown up with the knowledge that the Clave was the governing body, the law, the one entity that all shadowhunters and Downworlders alike feared. It seemed almost impossible that one warlock had the capacity to threaten the Clave and all the shadowhunters.

_The Clave will only be destroyed from the inside, like my father. There is no warlock with the skill to do that. _Jace waited for Maryse to tell these warlocks just that, that they were gravely mistaken. However, when she spoke, it was not in denial.

"Then who has he threatened?" she asked gently.

"Your godson and Clarissa Morgenstern," answered Lupin grimly. "They are both in danger, far more danger than I think you will understand, which is why Dumbledore sent us here."

"You think Lord Voldemort wants Jace?" said Maryse, and Jace was glad to hear how skeptical she sounded. Though he didn't have the slightest notion who Voldemort was, the gravity of their talk had been making him nervous. "It's nonsense."

"We have well-placed spies within Lord Voldemort's ranks, and they assure us that Lord Voldemort has sent two of his most dangerous Death Eaters looking for them," Lupin said firmly. "Jonathan is in danger, and not the kind of danger you can hide from."

"We don't hide," hissed Maryse.

"Your enchanted walls and knives won't keep Lord Voldemort out," Moody growled. "This place isn't safe for him, and as long as he's in your home, you're endangering the lives of your entire family."

"I'm not sending Jace away!" Maryse snapped, and Jace felt relief spread through him like warmth. "We have our own war to fight, you know, and Jace is in quite enough danger as it is from Valentine-"

"_Valentine_!" Moody barked, and the dog growled again. "That jumped-up, little git? You think he's the worst of your worries? You think a bloke with a sword is going to be a problem when Voldemort sends his Death Eaters your way?" Jace felt his mouth hanging open; no one had ever referred to his father as a _jumped-up, little git_ before. "Don't you understand yet? Valentine's war isn't going to matter if Voldemort takes over. There won't be an army that man could summon that would protect him from Voldemort."

"You can't know-"

"He's right, Mrs. Lightwood," said Lupin over her rising voice. "While your intentions may be good and true, Lord Voldemort poses a much more prominent threat, and one that, frankly, you're not equipped to deal with."

"And what do you propose then?" she asked testily.

"Dumbledore would like to extend his protection to Jonathan and Clarissa. He's willing to offer them a safe place to stay, his personal protection, and-"

"You want to take Jace away?" Maryse cut across him. "Dumbledore wants to hide Jace somewhere?"

"Hardly hiding," said Lupin gently. "Lord Voldemort is aware of Dumbledore and he will know that Jonathan is with him, but he won't try and take them from right beneath Dumbledore's nose."

"And how could you be sure of _that_?" Maryse returned.

"Because Albus Dumbledore is the only person Lord Voldemort fears," said Moody gruffly.

"Where does he want to take Jace?" she asked. "Where is safer than here?"

"Hogwarts," answered Lupin. "There's no safer place in the entire world now than Hogwarts."

"And what is _Hogwarts_?" Maryse said, her voice tightened skeptically.

"It's a school," supplied Lupin. "He and Clarissa will be safe there, and, I would think, relatively happy. They'll be around children their own age, and have friends, and-"

"I am not sending my son off to some ridiculous school just because some warlock tells me that my son might be in danger," Maryse said slowly and loudly. "Jace is going to stay here, with his family, and we will keep him safe."

"Maybe the choice should be up to him?" offered Lupin.

"I'm not wasting my breath explaining all this-"

"You won't have to," said Moody with a chuckle, "he's listening to every word we say."

At that moment the door to the library swung open and Jace, Alec, Isabelle and Max found themselves under the fiery gaze of Maryse. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"You can't be too angry with them, Mrs. Lightwood," said Lupin, and Jace got his first good look at him. He was tall, light haired with a speckling of grey, and his face, though young, was lined with weariness and something else. "They are, after all, exceptional young adults, and it's my experience that exceptional young adults do tend to get up to…" he glanced sideways at the black dog, "…hijinks."

"You might feel that way," breathed Maryse, "but my children should know better."

"But the dog!" said Max desperately, pointing at the huge black dog that was even how looking at Jace. "It winked at me!"

"Maxwell Lightwood," said Maryse slowly, "how dare you make up such ridiculous lies-"

"The dog winked at you?" thundered Moody, and Jace saw that he was indeed a shorter man, with a metal leg and a bowler hat pulled low over his face. Jace placed a protective hand on Max's shoulder, ready to defend the boy from a mad warlock, but then he saw, surprised, that the man Moody was directing his anger at the black dog. "Oh, that's a nice coincidence, isn't it, Black? Boy sees a winking dog, must be magic. You did that on purpose!" The dog, whom Moody had addressed as Black, looked up at him and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. "Dumbledore should never have let you come! You just can't help yourself, can you, Black?"

"Excuse me?" Maryse said loudly, and Lupin held up his hand.

"It's quite a story," he sighed, "but as Sirius here has blown his own cover, no doubt on purpose, we might as well end the charade. Sirius?"

Jace, who had been too busy listening to Lupin, didn't notice the dog Black, until there was no dog. In its place was a tall, dark-haired, stately man, with a pair of grey eyes and a wicked smile. Jace was reminded at once of his father, and at once of someone different entirely. He had a dignified look, like one who was a cut above the rest, and his eyes were the same color as Valentine's. For a moment, Jace thought this was not someone to cross, someone like his father who was strict and hard, and whose wit would be as sharp as any weapon. But, then he smiled roguishly, and the eyes glimmered and a look of casual elegance came over him. He seemed personable, approachable, and just a slight bit daring.

"Didn't mean to give your son a fright," said Black politely, his hands in his pockets.

"Are you a werewolf?" Max asked with awe in his voice.

For some reason, this made Black laugh, and his laugh was warm but reminiscent of a bark. "No, no I'm no werewolf."

"Then how did you transform?" Isabelle asked, staring hard at him.

"I'm an animagus," he said brightly. "I can change into a dog at will."

"But-" Alec began, having never heard of it from Magnus.

"Enough," said Maryse with a sharpness that made all of her children silent. "Regardless of the fact that warlocks are popping up all over my home, I think we have something to discuss."

Jace, sensing that he was expected to join the conversation, looked at Lupin straight in the eye and said, "I'm not going with you."

"Regrettable but unfortunate," said Lupin, but he didn't seem the least bit perturbed by Jace's stubbornness. "I don't think you quite understand the danger you're in, and, by extension, the danger your family is in with you around them. Lord Voldemort will not spare them when he comes for you."

"I don't even know who Lord Voldemort is," Jace said, raising one eyebrow. "I'm hardly about to run away because he's coming after me."

"Not knowing and refusing to accept are two very different things," said Black, but he still seemed to retain a bit of a smile. "Like as not, Voldemort knows you, and his interest puts you in a difficult position. If you remain here, he'll kill everyone you love."

Jace flicked his gaze to Maryse, who, for once, looked at a loss for words. "How do you know that?"

Sirius glanced at Remus. "My godson, Harry, lives with me because when he was baby, Lord Voldemort came to his home and murdered his parents, and then tried to kill him. If Voldemort was willing to murder a year old baby, I'm quite sure he won't balk at killing shadowhunters of any age."

Against his will, Jace glanced over to Isabelle, Alec, and Max, who were staring at him like they'd never seen him. "We can defend ourselves against him. I think I've met worse than a rogue warlock."

Sirius's eyes widened and he glanced over at Moody. "I don't know if you understand exactly what you're dealing with, Jace."

Jace smirked, and Sirius was reminded forcibly of himself in his youth: cocky, confident, and smarter than all the adults around him. "What you don't know hardly surprises me. You're a warlock, you live in fear, I'm a shadowhunter, I don't know what fear is."

"Courage is not the absence of fear," said Lupin wryly, "but the strength to what is right in the face of it. That's what the Muggles say, isn't it?"

Jace's eyes narrowed but his face still bore the smirk. "Don't lecture me about courage. What would you know of it?"

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart," chuckled Sirius and he and winked at Lupin.

"I know you don't want to believe me, Jace, and I understand." Lupin shot a warning look at Moody. "When you're young you think you're untouchable, strong, carried away by your own brilliance-trust me, I've had my own fair share of adventures-but there are some times when you're not. There are some times when you're in danger and, though it might be painful to accept, you must rely on someone else." Jace thought, looking at Lupin, that he was reminded very much of Luke. "Lord Voldemort is not some rogue warlock, Jace, he's the most powerful Dark wizard of all time, and, unfortunately, because the Clave doesn't educate young shadowhunters in our history, you have very little grasp of his power."

"We don't need Dumble-whatever to protect Jace," said Isabelle hotly. "I think a family of shadowhunters is more than capable of defending themselves against one warlock."

Lupin looked imploringly to Maryse, but her face was carefully blank. "Are you going to live in denial your whole life?" demanded Sirius, his eyes flashing.

"I'm not going to send my son off without good reason," said Maryse simply.

"Good reason?" barked Sirius. "Is it not enough that Lord Voldemort wants you dead?"

"No, it's not," said Jace, crossing his arms.

"You hear about the London Institute then?" asked Moody.

Maryse turned her sharp gaze to him and her children fell silent a moment. "No."

Moody smiled. "And here I thought you were up-to-date on your news. There was an attack late last night that we responded to. Death Eaters along with a pack of werewolves attacked the Institute, now you can imagine what happened?"

"The London Institute was home to almost fifty shadowhunters and children in training," said Maryse.

"Now it's home to none," said Sirius softly, and the Lightwoods turned to look at him. "By the time we arrived, the place had been ransacked. So far, we've found two survivors."

"_Two_?" Alec gasped, and Isabelle looked horrified.

"Two," said Sirius austerely. "The others had been killed. Now, if a pack of werewolves and a few Death Eaters could destroy an entire Institute, how well do you think you're lot will fare when they show up here?"

"You're lying," said Jace blankly, his mind racing. _An entire Institute, destroyed by some warlocks? _"That's not possible."

"You can try and contact the Institute, you'll find that no one answers," said Lupin sadly. "We found two children, Sirius himself pulled one out of the debris."

"They're all dead?" whispered Maryse.

"We believe that they were sent by Voldemort to try and locate Jonathan and Clarissa," said Lupin. "Luckily, we were able to get to their files before Voldemort could."

"Why the Institute?" Jace asked. "I never knew anyone in London."

"You're a small community," said Sirius, looking at Jace. "They thought that someone might have word of where you or Clarissa was."

Jace stared into the grey eyes of Sirius Black and shivered against his will. "I'm not afraid of him."

"No one said you were," said Sirius, "but you can't pretend you're not in danger. If you're here, the Lightwoods are in danger. If you come with us, we can promise you protection."

Jace bit his lip. _You're not afraid of a warlock, but can you justify putting your family in danger?_ "When can I come back?"

"When the war is over," said Lupin.

"How long is that?" Jace asked swiftly.

Lupin and Sirius smiled sadly. "There's no way of knowing, but so long as Voldemort is at large, your family isn't safe."

Jace looked away and saw that Alec was staring at him in absolute horror. "Jace, you can't…"

"If I stay here, you could be hurt," said Jace uncertainly. "And, I might not be gone that long."

"Jace, you can't!" said Isabelle.

"I'll be in more danger, because of Valentine Morgenstern." When Lupin merely tipped his head, Jace continued, desperate, "You don't understand, my father thinks he _owns_ me and Clary-"

"Your father?" asked Moody sharply, eyeing Jace closely. "What do you mean by that?"

Jace stared back at him, nonplussed. "I mean, my father, as in the man who raised me."

Moody, Sirius, and Lupin all exchanged a quick look before Lupin said, "When you say your father, you're referring to…Valentine Morgenstern?"

Jace made a face. "Who _else _would I be referring to?"

Sirius's hand shot out, snatching up the folder that was on the desk before them. Jace noticed it bore the insignia of an M with a wand tip alight. Sirius flipped through it rapidly before looking back at Jace. "Jonathan…I think there's been a bit of confusion here."

"I'm sorry to hear you're confused," Jace returned.

He waited to see how Sirius would take it, and was surprised when the man smiled. "Clarissa is the daughter of Valentine and Jocelyn Morgenstern, but you're…not."

Jace stared at Sirius for a long moment, neither moving nor making a sound. "Excuse me?"

Something in the way he had spoken alerted Sirius and Remus to his emotional state, because Remus moved forward, a placating smile on his face. "The Ministry of Magic keeps very detailed records on such people like you, and Valentine Morgenstern isn't your father, Jonathan."

"Valentine raised me," said Jace in a hard voice. "I remember him raising me."

"He certainly raised you," said Lupin, not unkindly, "but he is not your father."

"You're insane," said Jace in an even voice. Sirius offered up the folder but Jace swatted it away. "Valentine told me himself."

Moody slammed his hand down hard on the desk making everyone jump. "And you _believed_ him? He's the enemy! Why would you trust _anything _that man says? My god, I thought you lot were well trained in these areas! Trusting Valentine Morgenstern to tell you the truth! Let me guess, was this right after you sat down and had a nice long dinner with him? Shared a bottle of wine?"

Jace could feel his mouth hanging open again. "You'll have to forgive Alastor," said Lupin in a soft voice. "He really is the best Auror of the age, bit suspicious, but still brilliant."

"Auror?" Jace asked, staring at the man in the bowler hat who was muttering to himself.

"Dark wizard hunter," supplied Lupin. "Bit like a shadowhunter, really."

"Constant vigilance!" he crowed, making them all jump.

"Get a grip, Mad-Eye," said Sirius in an offhand way.

"Mad-Eye?" Max piped up.

Moody swung around to face them all and flicked his bowler hat up. Max yelped and fell back against Jace, who gripped him firmly. Moody's face was molted with scars, burns, and a large chunk of his nose was missing, making his face slightly lop-sided. But it was none of these features that had so shocked Max, but the huge electric, blue eye that was whizzing around in the socket, completely independent of the brown one. It rested for a moment on Max's face, then Jace's, then rolled around completely in the back of his head, presumably to look at Maryse.

"Lost it in a duel," said Mad-Eye gruffly. "Serves me better though. Eye in the back of my head…"

Jace found his voice, tearing his eyes away from Mad-Eye. "Valentine lied to me?"

"Yes," said Lupin gently, moving a step closer to Jace. "Yes, he raised you, but he wasn't your father. The Ministry was keeping tabs, your surname is Herondale."

Jace frowned. "The Inquisitor?"

"She probably didn't know," said Lupin. "No one knew. But if you put the pieces together-"

"Pieces?" said Maryse sharply. "I knew the Herdonales."

"Then you must have known that Celine Herondale was eight months pregnant when she committed suicide after Stephan died. And, if you had gone to her funeral, you would have noticed she _wasn't _pregnant then."

Jace looked to Maryse and her eyes were wide with realization. "Are you saying Valentine cut me-"

"Yes," said Lupin and he sounded very sad. "I am very sorry you had to find out this way."

Jace looked between Sirius, who was watching him with a carefully blank face, as if waiting for the moment he might be needed, Remus was still wearing that sad, sympathetic smile, and Moody was staring at him, at least one eyes was, the other was turned toward the door. His gaze slipped over to the Lightwoods; to Alec, who looked confused and Isabelle who was gaping, and Max who was still looking at Jace with silent awe. Finally he flicked his gaze to Maryse.

"Is it true? You were there, you saw her."

Maryse looked helplessly back. "Everything was so busy with the failed Uprising, Jace…I thought she'd slight her wrists _because_ she'd lost the baby."

Jace didn't linger to hear anymore secrets. He turned sharply about and ran.


	3. A Little Risk

**Hey, sorry this is late, but I've been traveling for the holiday weekend. Thanks for reading, I hope you like it! **

A Little Risk

"_Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery."_

_-Albus Dumbledore._

No one slept that night in Grimmauld Place. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had gone back upstairs, but were sequestered in the boy's room. It was a testament to how worried Mrs. Weasley was that she didn't come up, demanding they return to their rooms, but instead remained downstairs, her mind on Arthur. Harry was thinking of his last view of Sirius as he rushed from the house, his broom in one had his wand in the other, a look of determination spread over his face.

_The Ministry was too close, _thought Harry miserably. Harry could still remember that awful moment when Sirius had been hit by one of Bellatrix's spells and had stumbled back; he'd looked so surprised and Harry had watched him fall to the floor in a kind of dream state. Horrified, furious, Harry had run after Bellatrix, thinking only of avenging Sirius. It wasn't until after Dumbledore and Voldemort had dueled and Voldemort had fled that Remus had arrived on the scene, helping to support a battered Sirius.

"This is awful," said Hermione in a small voice. "Institutes are like homes and schools to shadowhunter families; it's not like they're going to be expecting an attack."

Harry shot her a dour look. "I'd be a little more worried about our own people than some shadowhunters."

Ron nodded silently, but Ginny, again, stared at Harry. "I'm sure the Death Eaters will leave once the Order arrives; they're only attacking there because they know it's an easy win. They need our help."

Harry wanted to snap back, but Ginny looked so sure and so serious that he found he couldn't think of the right thing to say that wouldn't offend her. After all, her father had gone off with the Order to the Institute as well; he was in as much danger as Sirius.

"I can't imagine _why_ they would attack the shadowhunters though," sad Hermione, sounding confused. "Why bother? I'm sure some of the Death Eaters will be hurt in the process, and a few werewolves killed. It doesn't make sense."

"You heard them," said Ron, nodding to the door, "earlier tonight, they're looking for two shadowhunters. Maybe they're at the London Institute."

"Well that doesn't make much sense, does it?" said Hermione in an absent voice. "Moody said a 'long journey', which would imply they were not just going to fly up the street."

"Maybe they're trying to scare them, is all?" Harry suggested. "It couldn't hurt to have the shadowhunters scared."

"Maybe, but why an Institute? There have got to better places with more shadowhunters." Hermione frowned, but then shook her head and gave up. "I'm sure we'll hear about it soon. I just hope everyone comes back alright."

It was the thought on everyone's mind, and the one that hung over them that night as the sky lightened and the stars winked out. Sometime around four in the morning, Mrs. Weasley came up to check on them, and upon seeming them all assembled in one room, looking tired but awake, she hurried off to make a pot of tea and said breakfast would be early that day. Just as the sun reached over the peaks of the London houses, the door burst open and a cacophony of noises spilled into the house.

"They're back!" Ginny gasped, jumping to her feet and out the door. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed her into the hall and down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and coming to a jumbled halt in the hall.

"Get out of way!" Mr. Weasley ordered, pushing his daughter back. "Make room for them!"

A swarm of people piled in just as Mrs. Black began screeching at the top of her lungs. Harry saw a few familiar faces in the strained crowd: Elphias Dodge, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Hestia Jones, but Sirius was nowhere to be seen. They rushed forward, and Harry saw, his stomach contracting painfully, a pair of legs jutting out from the group. His first thought, after seeing that Sirius was not among the returning group, was that he had been hurt in the battle.

"Sirius!" Harry called, rushing after them, but they were already taking the stairs to the kitchen.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione called desperately, and the rest followed.

The kitchen was crammed with numerous members of the Order, and somewhere, a little girl was crying. Harry saw again the pair of legs now on the table and guessed whoever it was, they were laying on the table while someone checked them over. Harry shoved past a few people, some he didn't recognize, some he did, and finally managed to reach the table.

_Thank god,_ Harry thought as he looked down, not on the face of Sirius, but of a young man, perhaps a year younger than him. His relief, though, was short lived, when he saw how badly injured the young man was.

His skin was pale white and Harry could see the blue veins prominently under his skin. His clothing, a pair of flannel pants and a white t-shirt, were torn asunder, and Harry realized that this boy too must have been woken in the middle of night, though by something much fouler. His hair, brown in loose coils, clung to the side of his face, plastered by sweat and blood, for the boy had a gaping wound where his shoulder and neck met, and it was oozing blood onto the table and floor.

"Harry, get out of way," said a terse Mr. Weasley.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked, his mind returning to Sirius.

"Harry, move!"

Sturgis Podmore pushed him back and his view was obscured. Just then, the fire in the hearth erupted into green flames and out came Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey. He only had time to register their appearance and what it must have meant when Mrs. Weasley snatched him by the arm and dragged him back to the wall where Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were all watching, their faces a mask of horror.

"Go upstairs, you four. This isn't anything you need to see," she said sternly. "Go on, upstairs now."

"Who is that, Mum?" asked Ginny in a high voice. "Is it someone we know?"

"No, dear, now go." She pushed them back toward the stairs.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked. "And Remus? Where are the others?"

Mrs. Weasley was about to answer when the sound of a crying girl was heard in the kitchen again. A witch Harry recognized as Hestia Jones came hurrying toward them carrying a small girl who was sobbing uncontrollably. "Molly, she can't stay down here."

Mrs. Weasley took the girl out of Hestia's arms and held her out to Ginny, who took the child with a look of confusion on her face. "All of you, go upstairs now. Try and calm her down, get her to sleep if you can."

"But, they others-"

"They're gone, Harry," Mrs. Weasley sighed, exasperated. "If the Institute has been attacked, it means You-Know-Who is on the move. No one was hurt, but they've gone on a mission for Dumbledore at once." The feeling of relief hit again, but just then a horrible cry of pain was heard from the figure on the table and Harry shuddered. "Quickly, go. Take her upstairs, away from all this. I'll send Mundugus up with food for her. _Go_!"

The little girl was sobbing into Ginny's shoulder as the group of them hurried back up the stairs and away from the sight of the screaming, convulsing boy. Though Ron wanted to pause on the first floor and try and listen, the little girl cried louder at the sound of another howl of pain from below, and Ginny headed up to the second floor and her bedroom; Harry and Ron followed regretfully. The moment they were all in, Hermione slammed the door.

"What a mess," she said softly, as Ginny settled herself on the bed with the girl. She hadn't shown her face yet, and was instead cowering in Ginny's arms. "That poor boy…"

"What happened?" Ron wondered, his face pale as the boy downstairs. "All that blood, and-and-" The girl wailed and Ginny threw him a nasty look.

Hermione drew a little closer to Ginny, who was now rubbing the girl's back in comforting motions and murmuring encouraging words into her ear. "Can you tell us your name?" Hermione asked the girl. When she didn't respond, Hermione sat down and said kindly, "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ginny Wesley, and our friend, Harry Potter, and Ginny's brother, Ron."

The girl's crying quieted just a little. "Brother?" she asked, and Hermione saw a flash of very pretty green eyes peek out from Ginny's shoulder. "Where's my brother? Where's Nathan?"

Harry noticed suddenly how the girl's hair fell in the exact same way as the boy's downstairs, how it was twined in loose curls, and how it gleamed brown in the rising sun. "Is your brother the boy that came with you?"

"Nathan!" she shrieked.

"He'll be alright," said Hermione quickly. "But I bet he'll be worried about you; we should tell him you're alright. Can you tell us your name so we can tell him?"

Again, the girl cried, but she peeked up at Hermione and sniffled. "Madeline."

"That's a beautiful name," said Ginny kindly.

"C-can I see Nathan?" she asked between deep breaths.

"In a bit," said Hermione gently. "In a bit. Do you want to…sleep?"

"I want my brother!" she wailed, and finally detangled herself from Ginny's arms and landed heavily on the floor. Horrified she had hurt herself, Ginny gasped, but the girl wasn't a shadowhunter for nothing. With the speed, grace and agility of her kind, she launched herself for the door, looking like a streak of pale skin and lots of brown hair. Harry only just managed to swing her up off her feet.

"You can't go back down there, Madeline, not right now," he said.

Madeline's lip trembled and Harry felt a pang of sympathy. She looked so small and delicate, with a perfectly round face and big, wide, green eyes. Her mouth opened just a little. "My brother," she said in an anguished whisper.

"He's going to be alright. He's going to get all the help he could possibly need, but you'll have to wait." Madeline looked like she was ready for anything but to wait. She squirmed in Harry's hands, but he only held on tighter and took her back to the bed where Ginny was hurriedly making a place for the girl to lie down. Harry sat her down and met her eye. "Your brother is going to be fine. I promise. There's no better people there to care for him than here."

Madeline stared up at Harry through her watery eyes and he was shocked by how blank she looked; it was as if this amount of chaos and death were common to her. "I know he'll be cared for."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Harry said kindly, giving her small shoulder a squeeze.

"He was bitten by a werewolf!" she cried at once. "He'll be a werewolf."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," said Hermione kindly. "Really. We've got a friend who's a werewolf and he was a professor at the school we went to, and he's really very nice. He gets along just fine with it."

The girl shook her head. "H-he can't be a shadowhunter if he's a werewolf."

"Of course he can," said Ron swiftly. "Our friend is a werewolf and a wizard." But then he saw Hermione shaking her head at him swiftly.

"It's not the same!" Madeline said shrilly and threw herself on the pillow, her sobs redoubled.

Ginny sat beside the girl and tucked her into a blanket before gently rubbing her back while she cried. Hermione gestured both Harry and Ron out of the room for a moment with a cheery, "We'll go see how everything's going."

The moment the door was closed Hermione rounded on Ron. "You _know_ her brother's a shadowhunter."

"Yeah, so? Remus is a wizard and he seems to get on just fine with a wand." Ron glanced at Harry for support, who nodded in agreement.

"It's different for them. I told you shadowhunters don't like magical creatures. It's their law," said Hermione sadly. "If you're magical you can't be a shadowhunter."

"Oh," said Ron, his face growing pale. "That's a rubbish rule. You think it might help them, right? Being able to turn into a wolf once a month. Great sense of smell, I bet."

"Of course it's rubbish, but it's what they think, and now she's scared she'll probably never see her brother again. I hope her parents come soon…" Hermione bit her lip. "I mean, where could they be? You think if someone took your children away you'd at least go after them!"

"Maybe they didn't have the potions ready to heal-"

"You three coming down then?" They all jumped as Mundugus slouched up the last step and arrived on the landing looking tired. He was carrying a tray with a bowl of thick, steaming strew, bread, and a goblet of some cloudy liquid. "It's a bit quieter now."

"We'll stay up here," said Hermione, taking the tray. "I suppose this is a sleeping potion?"

"Yep. Poor thing probably needs it too. Terrible business, terrible…" Mundugus, for once, seemed truly sentimental.

"What happened?" Ron ventured.

Mundugus glanced up. "It was a mess when we got there, a mess. The doors had been blasted off their hinges, and there were werewolves everywhere, and you could hear screaming all over. I mean, it's not like it's a military base; it's a home, a school like. Anyway, we got there, and the first floor was full of 'em…dead, you know. Most of 'em took it bad, too. Werewolves. We started searching around, and on the second floor, we found a few of the wolves, got all but one, and that one ran off to warn the Death Eaters. Guess they didn't want to hang around much if we were there; saw a few on the third floor taking off.

"But Sirius, he was thinking maybe the Lestranges were there, so him and Moody went to find 'em. Guess there was a bit of struggle, too, o' course, Sirius and Moody scared 'em off. No Death Eater wants to fight Moody. That's where we found these two. Boy was all covered in blood and the girl was screaming." Mundugus looked down and shivered. "Terrible, real terrible. They're the only two survivors we found."

"That's it?" Hermione gasped. "You mean their parents…?"

"Terrible thing," said Mundugus in agreement. "Don't know what's going to happen to these two. The boy's been bitten looks like, and he'll turn for sure. It's too close to the full moon. And the girl, she's got no family now."

Harry gaped. "What's going to happen to them then? This wasn't their fault."

Mundugus shrugged, but his face was dark. "No clue where we're supposed to put them."

"This isn't even their war," said Harry furiously. "They're not even involved in this."

"I know, mate, I know," said Mundugus, and from below, a horrible scream of pain echoed up the stairs. Mundugus turned to head back down. "It's madness."

Harry, Hermione and Ron watched him slouch back downstairs into whatever mess was waiting, and then looked between each other. They all shared the same look of revulsion and pity, and they were all feeling the guilt that had been weighing on them come down even harder. When they returned to the room, they found Ginny seated on the bed, still patting Madeline's back, and the knowledge that she would have to live without her parents struck them all. Hermione, still holding the tray, could feel herself shaking and she had to put it down on the bedside table; she lifted her eyes to Harry and Ron, and Ron placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Harry watched Madeline cry, thinking, _Too many families torn apart, too many lives ruined for this._

* * *

"Pack lightly, you won't need much and we really can't carry a lot either."

Clary dropped the pad of thick paper she'd been holding, and it knocked a jar of paintbrushes to the floor. They scattered to the farthest corners of the room, rolling away like they were running for cover.

_Just like my life, _thought Clary miserably.

It was all too much to take in so short a time. Not two months before, Clary had seen her life torn apart by demons and a man called Valentine, and she had been introduced to the world of shadowhunters and Downworlders. She'd fallen in love with a boy who had turned out to be her brother, she'd learned that her father was a murderer, and that her mother had been lying to her for her entire life; each one had been a small blow to her sanity, but she'd managed to cling on by the strength of her friends and family.

But, now this newest revelation had come. Not only was there a Clave in charge of shadowhunter and Downworlders, there was a Ministry of Magic, and they were an even bigger kept secret than the Clave. And there were wizards and witches all over the world who weren't born of demon blood, and they could do real magic, and one of them apparently wanted her.

Suddenly there were wizards at the door, asking Luke if Jocelyn and Clary were home. Asking to speak to Clary about something important. She'd been pulled away from a startled Simon and into the sitting room where a man named Kingsley Shacklebolt and a woman who called herself Tonks had explained that a wizard, Lord Voldemort, had issued a threat on her life, and she would have to come with them immediately. She'd turned to Luke, but he was just staring open-mouthed at the man, and that was when she knew she was in trouble. Even the Clave never daunted Luke, but this man, this wizard, he had scared Luke. Kingsley had asked her to pack quickly and lightly; they were going to the Institute to get Jonathan and then they would be on their way.

_Can't my life just be normal for a moment? _Clary wondered, staring at the brushes as if it was their fault her life was in shambles _again_.

"Here, let me take care of that for you." Tonks flicked her wand and the brushes rushed back into the jar that jumped back up onto her desk. "Gosh, I wish my room was this neat."

Clary stared at Tonks for a moment and thought that for all her artistic inclinations, she would never have the nerve to dye her hair so brilliantly pink. Tonks was a bit taller than Clary, and pretty, at least as far as Clary was concerned. She had a heart-shaped face with eyes that glimmered now and then, and Clary was sure they changed color. Unlike her partner, Shacklebolt, she was young and bubbly, and had an aura of joviality that seemed out of place in the middle of such a serious moment. Clary had been told she was a Dark Wizard catcher, so she had expected someone like a shadowhunter, but aside from the long, leather coat she wore, Tonks looked about as much like a shadowhunter as Simon did. When Tonks caught her looking, she winked.

"Never quite figured out the cleaning spells, you know," she said, coming into the room and looking around curiously. Her eyes landed on the cell phone on Clary's bed and she held it between two fingers. "What's this?"

"My cell phone," said Clary slowly. _Even shadowhunters have cell phones,_ Clary felt like snapping at her.

Tonks studied it a bit closer then tossed it back on the bed. "You bring one of those around Arthur and he'll never leave you alone. Mad about Muggle gadgets, he is. Oh! Look at that!" Her eyes had fallen on Simon's computer he had left behind in her room. She saw the light flash, signaling its sleep, and she prodded it suspiciously with her finger. "What's this do then? Is it a book?"

"It's a computer," said Clary, exasperated, "and it's not mine, so be careful."

Tonks gave it one last cursory look before flopping down on the bed. "Bit tight in here, isn't it? Suppose you get this whole place to yourself? I think you'll be sharing with the other girls at Order headquarters, Molly will have to bring in an extra bed…"

_The other girls_, Clary wondered. _How many wayward children have they been picking up? _"Can you tell me where we're going, just so Luke will know?"

Tonks gave her a sad look, and Clary thought her hair turned a shade darker. "I'm afraid I can't. I'm not Secret Keeper, and besides, it's best that the fewer people know, the better."

"He's my family," said Clary, and she turned away, tugging open the drawer of her dresser and pulling out shirts. "He should know where I am." She started tossing things on the floor haphazardly, hoping to intimidate the witch.

"All the more reason he's not to know. The Dark Lord will go after him if he knows too much." Clary heard Tonks mutter a word and then a rush of air. When she turned around, all of the clothes Clary had thrown in her fit were swooping down into a duffle bag, the shirts and pants folding neatly, but the socks sort of piled on top of one and other. Tonks gave a sock an extra prod, but it just flipped over in defiance. "_Still_ haven't gotten the hang of that down…Oh well, is that everything, then?"

"Can I take any of my art supplies?" asked Clary, eyeing the art easel.

Tonks hedged. "Have you got anything smaller? Best we leave this stuff behind, we haven't got a lot of room."

_You want me to fit my life into a single duffle bag? _Clary scooped up her backpack, still holding some art supplied and few books from Luke's store, and her mother's stele, and tossed it over her shoulder. "I can take this, right?"

Tonks didn't catch the note of resentment in her voice. "Sure. You'll need a book bag for school anyway. Ready? Let's go!"

Clary paused on the threshold of her bedroom, wondering if she would ever see it again, but already Tonks was taking the stairs down and Clary knew she couldn't linger. Back in the sitting room, Kingsley was waiting, his eyes moving constantly, and Luke was watching him, frowning. When Clary arrived, Luke took her under his arm and held her tightly.

"I'm coming with you to the Institute to get Jace."

"Jace?" asked Tonks loudly, turning to face them and at the same time, hitting Kingsley with the duffle. "Who's that?"

"My brother," said Clary slowly. "You know, Jonathan."

Tonks and Kingsley shared a look and Tonks said quickly, "How do you reckon that?"

"Well, Jonathan prefers to go by his nickname," said Luke patiently. "His full name is Jonathan Christopher and his initials are J.C. and he just preferred it to the other."

"I don't mean the name," said Kingsley, waving his hand. "You said Jonathan was your brother?"

"He is," Clary replied stonily, not wanted to be reminded of that either. "Valentine raised him."

"Sure he did," said Tonks, "but that doesn't make him your brother."

* * *

"Jace!" Alec cried, turning to follow him. "Jace, come back!"

"I'll go," said Sirius quietly to Remus and Moody and set off after him.

"Where's he going?" Maryse demanded as Sirius left. "He's not allowed to just wander off in the Institute. Go get him."

"Perhaps it's best he go and find Jace and talk some sense into him," said Remus simply. "We haven't got much time left and Jace doesn't seem to be in any mood for-"

"Of course he's not in any mood for it!" Isabelle rounded on Remus. "What do you expect? You come in here, tell him some freak wizard wants him dead, and that the man he thought was his father all his life, is really just the guy who cut him out of his mother. Wouldn't you be a little shocked?"

"I understand," said Remus kindly, seeing Isabelle's flushed face. "But that doesn't change that Lord Voldemort is still looking for him and we are in quite a time crunch."

"I should go," said Alec, and his face was inscrutable.

"Don't," said Remus, and Alec stared at him, uncomprehending. "Sirius can explain everything to him."

"He should have his family," said Alec severely.

Alec waited for Lupin to say something derogative or cruel, and to tell him he was being foolish, but instead, he offered Alec the saddest smile. "You can't keep him forever, Alec."

Alec looked away from the door where Jace had just run, and he saw how very sad Lupin seemed. "He's my brother."

"And Jace knows that, and that's why he won't risk putting you in danger."

* * *

Jace had taken off at once for the stairs to the roof and the greenhouse. He needed air, he needed freedom, he needed time away from the staring faces and his own confused thoughts. Shaking, he took the stairs two at the time and threw open the door so hard it banged off the wall. He kept going, past countless plants he didn't know, past Hodge's work bench, and to the wall that looked down on New York. Below, the people of the Mundane world were hurrying about; life was normal for them. They weren't nameless, parentless children who were being forced to leave behind their only families. No, they were happy, they were satisfied, they were safe in their ignorance. And Jace hated them for it.

_Who am I?_ Jace asked, sinking down against the wall and clutching his head in his hands. _Wayland, Morgenstern, Lightwood, Herondale…I'm none of those things. After today, I won't even be a shadowhunter, I'll just be an orphan with no family. _His stomach turned at the thought of putting away his knives and runes. _I _hate _my life._

A low growl alerted him to the presence of another, and he lifted his head slowly up from his knees. The huge black dog was standing there again. It sat down on its haunches and pressed its ears forward, as if listening. Jace glared back.

"What do you want?" he snapped. "Got more good news?" It was oddly human, how the dog seemed to mange to lift one of its eyebrows. "And stop doing that! You're a person, act like one."

This time the dog gave a rough bark that Jace realized was a laugh, and again, Sirius morphed back before his eyes. He was sitting, his knees bent before him, his arms resting carelessly; and though the pose was casual, relaxed, he looked more like a bored monarch than anything else.

_Valentine would _love_ to be able to look like that,_ thought Jace, reflecting on Valentine's care of appearance and attention to detail. _Guess some people just have all the luck._

"If you're unsettled by my shifting, you better watch out for Tonks when you meet her," said Sirius wryly.

"Tonks?"

"Member of the Order, she's an Auror too, Moody trained her personally." Sirius considered this. "If she wasn't so damn clumsy, she'd be one of the best. She'll be coming soon with Clarissa." Jace stirred for a moment at the mention of Clary. Briefly, he realized that Clary _wasn't _his sister, but that was pushed aside by Sirius's next words. "I think you and I have something to discuss."

Jace's bad mood returned swiftly. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Yeah, I imagine finding out the man you thought was your father had been lying to you all your life is rather mundane as far as shadowhunter business goes. But, just in the humor-me department, how about we have a little chat?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied curtly.

"You know," said Sirius simply, "I grew up with this family, the Blacks, and they were awful. Purebloods you know, and they thought being pureblood made you practically royal, and I couldn't stand it. I was so sure I'd been born into the wrong family. How could I, who was in Gryffindor, be a descendent of a family of Muggle-hating, evil, pure blood gits? I hated living with them, I hated the house and I hated everything in it." Sirius looked away. "I ran off when I was sixteen and went to live with my best mate, and his family took me in like it was nothing and it was like I had a family. But you know the strange thing? Years later, after they've all died and I'm the last one left, I went back to that house. It's headquarters of the Order, lots of people coming and going, and all of them opponents of people like the Black family, and now, the place isn't half as bad as it used to be. I guess what I'm trying to say is…your family isn't the people you were born to, it's the people you love. The Lightwoods raised you, so they're your family, and you've got no reason to worry about who you were or who you're going to be. You're Jace Lightwood."

Jace stared back at Sirius and his curiosity about the man peaked. "What's going to happen to me if I go with you?"

Sirius shrugged. "You'll be safe, and you're family will be safe. Dumbledore wants you enrolled at Hogwarts, so you'll go there at the end of summer."

"Do I get to come back?"

"It's a war," said Sirius evenly. "I don't think there's a way to measure something like that."

Jace closed his eyes, mulling it over. _You don't have a choice. If you stay the Lightwoods are going to be killed, and it's not worth that…_ "What about Valentine? He'll still come looking for me."

"The bloke with the sword?" Sirius ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. "It's an interesting theory, trying to kill a wizard with a sword; no one I know has ever tried it. There's that whole problem of getting _close enough_ to stab us in the first place." Jace still looked skeptical. "If we can keep Voldemort away, do you really think Valentine is going to be such a problem?" Sirius was smiling, and Jace got the impression he was actually hoping for something of the sort to happen, and Jace thought that maybe he'd found another rare person, like himself, who enjoyed a little risk every now and then.

"When are we going?"


	4. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

"We must all make a choice between what is right and what is easy._"_

_-Albus Dumbledore _

Jace found himself seated in the wide entrance hall of the Institute half an hour later on the steps of the staircase, a single duffle bag at his feet. He had been in some sort of dream state, returning to the library, saying he would go, and then going to his room to pack. He'd tossed shirts and pants into the bag, but when he'd reached for his weapons, Sirius had told him he wouldn't need them, and they weren't exactly allowed at Hogwarts. It felt like a blow to his pride to lay the dagger back down, but he knew that it was the cost of protecting his family. Instead, he grabbed a few of his favorite books off the shelf and stuffed them into the remaining space. Sirius had watched the whole thing from the door, and at the last moment, he suddenly reached out and picked up the stele resting on Jace's desk.

"Molly might not approve if she catches _you_ with this, but…if I were the one holding onto it?" He winked at Jace and Jace felt the vestiges of a smile touch his face. Then he'd gone back downstairs to wait.

Isabelle, Alec, and Max had arrived not soon after, looking horrified at the sight of their brother on the verge of departure.

"You can't go," said Isabelle simply, giving his bag a solid kick. "You can't."

"Izzy, this isn't really something I've got a choice about," said Jace patiently. "If I stay, you'll all be in danger-"

"We're already in danger!" she shouted. "Did you forget the whole war with Valentine?"

"I think whoever this warlock is, he's a bit more serious than Valentine." Jace flashed a look to Alec, hoping maybe he would understand. However, Alec looked back stonily. "I'm sure I'll be able to contact you guys once I'm there."

"So what?" Isabelle snapped. "We have no idea where you're going and who you're going to live with. What if this is some trap planned by Valentine?"

Jace raised one eyebrow. "Do you really think Valentine Morgenstern is likely to plan a trap with a group of warlocks?" Jace's sarcasm was enough for Isabelle, who shut her mouth and glanced around for support from her bother.

"Just because it's not a trap doesn't mean you should go through with it," Alec said finally. "You don't belong in that world; there's a reason we live separately from them."

"Well, according to them, their world is spilling over into ours." Jace met Alec's eyes but was surprised by how long he managed to hold his gaze. "I don't want to be responsible for you being hurt."

"Has it ever mattered before now?" Alec asked swiftly. "You've always done whatever you wanted, whether we were in danger or not."

Jace knew Alec would give or say anything to stop his parabatai from going, and he hated himself for it. "Well, then this shouldn't be any different than before."

"It's completely different!" Alec barked. "You're leaving _us _behind. Izzy and I have always been there to watch you, and now you're running off."

"Why can't we go?" Max piped up, his big eyes on Jace. "We can come with you to the school."

"It wasn't an open invitation," Jace said simply, though for a moment, the idea of having them with him was intriguing.

"You're being impossible," Alec growled.

"I'm being mature," Jace returned, his eyes narrowed.

"Running away isn't mature!" Alec snapped.

Jace felt himself rise up onto his feet, but at that moment, the sound of footsteps slapping the floor alerted them to the return of the adults. Maryse came out followed closely by Lupin, Moody, and the large dog that was Sirius. Remus saw the tension in the children and came forward, hands in the pockets of his worn coat, a tired smile returned to his face.

"All packed then, Jace?" he asked, coming up and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kingsley and Tonks should be arriving shortly and then we'll take a Portkey back to England."

"A what?" Isabelle asked distractedly, still watching Jace and Alec.

"Portkey," grunted Moody. "Mode of transportation for magical sorts; I've got it here." He reached into his many folds of his clock and removed an old edition of _The New York Times _and winked.

"What's that's supposed to do?" Alec asked, tearing his eyes away from Jace.

"You'll see in about fifteen minutes." Moody looked from the paper to Lupin. "Where are the others?"

"They'll be along in a moment," Lupin said, checking a watch.

Jace felt the tension and anger drain out of him at the reminder that Clary would be arriving shortly. In his confusion and bitterness, he had completely forgotten that not only was the freed from Valentine, he was freed from his brotherhood to Clary. Jace felt his mouth go dry and his heart jump.

_Does she know?_ Jace wondered with a painful stab. _Have they told her the truth?_

Just then, there was a grinding sound and then the gates before the elevator slide apart. Standing in the shaft was a small collection of people, two men, one woman, and a girl Jace knew. After a moment of silence, Clary shot out of the elevator and cleared the space between them, throwing herself into Jace's arms. Jace's first reaction was to carefully detangle himself from Clary and hold her at arm's length, but then he remembered…

_It's okay, she's not your sister_, he thought.

"You know?" Clary asked breathlessly. "Did they tell you that Valentine isn't-"

"Yes," said Jace, and he held her a bit tighter. "Yes, I know."

"And you're coming-"

"Alright, alright," said the gruff voice of Moody, stumping up to the two of them. "You can have a nice chat once we've got you the safe house."

"You're so tactless, Mad-Eye," said Tonks happily, and then looped an arm around Clary to separate her from Jace. "I'm sure it's strange, finding out the boy she thought was her brother was actually not."

"Death Eaters don't care if I'm tactless," he snapped in return, "and they won't wait for me to stop either. Get your stuff ready and circle up."

Clary looked up at Tonks, her face completely blank. "We're leaving from here? I-I thought we were going to England?"

"We are," said Tonks kindly and she handed the bag to Clary. "We're going _our _way, though, no Muggle transport."

"I'm leaving now?" Clary asked, suddenly desperate. She turned to find Luke's eyes and he bit his lip. "I have to go right now?"

"Four minutes," said Lupin, and Clary and Luke turned to look at him. Luke's eyes widened. "You're right, what you're thinking," added Lupin to Luke. "I am."

"I thought so…" said Luke with something like wonder. "I haven't met many of your kind."

"You wouldn't have," agreed Lupin. "Different species are dealt by different governments; your Clave handles the New World lycanthropes, the Ministry deals with my kind."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle cut in. "New World?"

Lupin smiled tiredly. "Perhaps you can ask your friend to explain later; I'll be leaving shortly."

"What are you talking about Remus?" asked Tonks loudly and then stared at Luke like he was nothing more than a Muggle.

"Nothing, Tonks," he said, and cast her a meaningful look.

However, Tonks outburst had drawn the attention of the Lightwoods and Jace. Isabelle felt her mouth hanging wide open, staring at the woman in a long, puce overcoat, knee-high laced up boots, black pants and shirt, and hair the color of cotton candy. When she caught her looking, Tonks winked and Isabelle closed her mouth and shot Jace a very pointed look.

"Wotcher!" she said, holding out a hand to shake to Jace, and then Isabelle and Alec in turn. "You must be Jonathan, pleasure meeting you, I'm Tonks."

"Tonks?" Jace asked, unable to look past her hair. "You're name is Tonks?"

"Well, that's what I'd prefer," she said shrugging. "I'm part of your escort guard."

"Aren't you a bit…young?" Alec finished lamely, well aware that he was only eighteen.

Tonks gleamed at him. "I'm the youngest Auror the Ministry has, Mad-Eye trained me himself; I think I can handle escort duty."

Alec swallowed back any protests and turned pleadingly toward Jace. "Jace, you don't have to go."

Jace took Alec's forearm and gave it one last squeeze as Moody yelled, "One minute! Round up you lot!"

"I'll come back, I swear," said Jace firmly. Then he patted the rune on Alec's arm, the one they shared. "Besides, you'll know how I am."

"Let's go!" Moody cried again and Jace swung his pack up onto his back.

Jace joined the group around the old _New York Times_ and looked up for instructions. Lupin smiled politely. "One finger will do, you two."

The last moments of both Clary and Jace's normal life were fleeting. Jace saw the gleaming walls of the Institute, his home of ten years, and he saw his family huddled by the stairs, looking at him like he was already miles away. Clary, at his side, found Luke's face and she tried to communicate everything she could, all of her love and all of her pain at leaving him in one look. She knew that wherever she was going, she was leaving behind a family, and it hurt more than she cared to admit. Then, something tugged her forward, a feeling like a hook in her belly button, and the world around her spun in a whirlwind of color and light, and the Institute, and everything in it, was gone.

Clary's feet slammed into hard, wet pavement, and she toppled forward, overcome by her own inertia; her hands shot out and someone grabbed her and straightened her up. Safe that she was no longer spinning, she opened her eyes. Clary was standing in a wet, dingy alley, currently home to a number of trash bins and a cat that had scampered away the moment they had appeared. The walls on either side of her stretched up to the grey sky above, and water dribbled down them like they were weeping. She flicked her gaze here and there, and saw at the end of the alley, a street, mostly obscured in fog, and in the distance, dull, dark shapes that could be houses. Her first thought was that they had come to the wrong place.

"A-are we here?" Clary rasped.

"Perfect landing this time," said Tonks in her usual cheery voice. "I usually hit something on the way down."

Clary looked over to see that Tonks was dusting herself off and that the man named Lupin was carefully pocketing the new paper. She felt a warm hand slide into her own and jumped. "Jace!"

"Still here," he said, though his voice was a hoarse as hers. "Though I can't say I enjoyed that. It's worse than portaling."

"You get used to it after a bit," said Tonks. "Though once you learn to Apparate, it's almost useless."

Clary glanced around again. "Is this…the safe house?"

Tonks snorted and Lupin gave her a kindly look that reminded her of Luke. "We're waiting for Sirius's signal that it's safe to leave our arrival point. At the moment, no one would know four wizards and two shadowhunters just arrived in the middle of London. He'll be-" Lupin broke off as something white and glowing ran the length of the alley up to them. Clary and Jace both stared for a moment, completely nonplussed, and then a feeling of warmth blossomed in them. After a minute, they both recognized it as a huge, graceful, loping dog. It came to a halt, its tail wagging "-sending word any moment. It's safe to move."

Clary stared after the dog as it turned tail and led the way to the end of alley. They had come out to the street and it was as unpromising as the alley. The road was cracked here and there, puddles were forming in the overrun gutters, trees that should have been blooming in summer were dragging branches and dropping leaves, and the houses that lined the street were old and grimy. Unable to help herself, Clary looked desperately over at Jace, who was himself, feeling nervous and wishing Sirius hadn't taken his knife.

"This way," Moody tossed over his shoulder, and led them across the street, his blue eye darting here and there. As they mounted the opposite walk, Moody held out a hand and then drew Clary and Jace in. "Right, look at this."

Clary, who had been busy staring at the miserable little houses, glanced down when Moody shoved a piece of paper into hers and Jace's hand. Written on it, in long, loopy handwriting were the words:

_**The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at **_

_**Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place**_

"What's this supposed to be?" Jace demanded, a bit more sharply than he intended. "Is this some joke-"

"Jace!" Clary gasped, and pointed across from them.

Jace followed her finger and saw first that the houses before him were labeled: _10, 11, 13, 14_. Then, with another jolt of shock, he saw that the houses were lurching apart from each other and from the ground was springing a new house, quite as grimy as the others, but somehow nobler. It seemed that no one else in the street was noticing that house emerge, though car alarms were blaring and lights in other houses flickering, and Jace wondered vaguely how it was accomplished, as he knew of only runes that could make someone or something go unnoticed. Finally, the house stopped its ascent and towered over them, a great, black, solid building.

"I left the Institute for this?" Jace said, smirking just a little, and Clary smiled.

Alec waited until his mother had sequestered herself in the hospital wing with his father before leaving the silence of his room and seeking out Isabelle. She was in her own room, the blankets thrown over her head, the sound of furious, heavy breathing issuing steadily from the lump of cloth that was her body. He had expected Max to be there, too, but he supposed that his mother must have shut him up in his room; he'd had a fit after Jace had vanished from the entrance hall.

"Izzy, hey, Izzy, it's me." Alec pushed open the door just a little more and waited for her to either allow him in or throw something at him. "Can I come in?"

A long pause, and then finally, he saw the familiar dark head of his sister emerge from the blankets. "Yes."

Alec slipped in and shut the door swiftly; carefully, like he was approaching a dangerous animal, Alec crossed the room and took an empty chair by Isabelle's armoire. "Mom is with dad; I think she locked herself in there."

"Dad'll take it bad," said Isabelle decidedly. "He liked Jace."

"We _all _liked Jace," said Alec testily.

"Well, we got to say goodbye, didn't we?" Isabelle said swiftly, and her head poked out just a little more. Alec could see her eyes. "He won't know until mom tells him, and then what? She has no idea where he's been taken, who he'll be living with, if he's even alive."

Alec felt himself go pale. "I'll know if he alive."

He saw Isabelle's dark gaze soften. "You will."

They both were quiet a moment, trapped in their own thoughts about their brother who was missing, about their family that had fallen apart. Alec kept thinking about those last moments, watching Jace surrounded by that strange array of people suddenly vanish, like he'd been pulled through a infinitesimal point in midair. In that moment, he's felt that he'd lost a small part of himself; he knew Jace was somewhere, but he didn't know.

"I was thinking…Mom is gonna be with dad for awhile. That'll give us time to slip out unnoticed."

"And go where?" asked Isabelle, staring at Alec in a hard way. "I'm not really in the mood for partying."

"I wasn't suggesting it. We know those people were warlocks, and they mentioned a few names that seemed familiar to Mom: Dumbledore, Voldemort, Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic. What if Magnus knows them?"

Isabelle sat up straight, the blankets falling away. "That's not a half bad idea, Alec."

"That tone of yours is insulting, you know." He smiled all the same. "If we leave soon we can be back before Mom knows."

Isabelle was out of bed and slipping into a jacket before Alec had gotten to the door. She seemed anxious to leave, and was trying to herd Alec to the door for five minutes while he found his coat and shoes. They checked once that their mother was tucked away with their father, and then slipped into the elevator, and out into the street. It was a testament to how much Isabelle missed Jace that she was willing to be seen in nothing but a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a pair of flats, and a nondescript jacket.

As Alec had hoped, the taxi ride to Magnus's was quick, and they met no obstacles on the way. With the events of the day, they had both forgotten that they were currently at war with Valentine, and they had very clearly declared themselves against his cause. Regardless, they arrived at Magnus's flat and stood outside his door, watching the street closely while they waited for him to answer.

"Who-" began his voice, but Alec cut him off.

"It's me, Magus, and I need to talk. It's serious." After a moment of thought, he added, "Isabelle is here too."

There was a few second's pause and then the door clicked and Magnus stood before them in his usual, glittery attire. "What's brought you two to my door at this time of night? And where, though I hardly mind, is the infamous Jace Morgenstern?"

"That's what we've come to talk about," said Alec tersely.

Magnus pulled the door wide. "What happened?"

"It's not what you think," said Isabelle as she followed Magnus up to his apartment. "It's not Valentine."

"It's not what I thought," agreed Magnus, entering his apartment and throwing himself down in a chair. His green gaze flicked between Isabelle, who was looking particularly peeked, and Alec, who was quiet and drawn. "Care to explain then?"

"It's confusing," began Alec. "Do you know who a warlock named Dumbledore is?"

Whatever Magnus had been expecting, this wasn't it. His eyebrows rose up and he looked politely confused a moment. "Dumbledore? As in Albus Dumbledore? He's not a warlock."

"_What_?" Isabelle snapped. "But they said-if Jace went with them and it was a lie-"

"Excuse me," said Magnus, holding up a hand. "Jace went where? And with whom?"

"These warlocks showed up at the Institute and said they worked for Albus Dumbledore and that Jace and Clary were in danger," said Alec breathlessly. "They said some other warlock was looking for them, Lord-something. He went, but if they were working for Valentine-"

"They weren't working for Valentine," said Magnus, leaning back. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle asked at once.

"When I said Dumbledore wasn't a warlock, I meant that in a literal sense. I'm a warlock by definition because one of my parents was a demon." Magnus raised his hand and green flames sprang up. "Dumbledore, and those people who came on his behalf, are _wizards. _A different…breed, if you will, and not descent from any demon."

"That's not possible," said Alec.

"I assure you, it is." Magnus paused a moment, thinking. "Wizards can do magic, but it's not born of demon energy. For instance, wizards and witches can reproduce and their children will be wizards and witches. Their magic doesn't come from dark energy."

"Then where does it come from?" Isabelle asked. "We've never heard of that before."

"You wouldn't have. The Clave doesn't like associating with their type." This made Magnus smile. "See, they don't particularly appreciate seeing the powers of the Angel being so easily dismissed. If these wizards and witches have power greater than their own, greater than a human's, but not gotten in some unholy deal, how can they possibly claim they are the chosen servants the Angel?"

Alec frowned. "If that's true, then where did they get their powers?"

"No one really knows," said Magnus indifferently. "There is speculation that they are distant relatives of shadowhunters; there are similarities between the two factions. Both have methods of repelling demon-like creatures, both study Ancient Runes, though as I understand it, the wizards' Ancient Runes are quite different from your own, and both even have an organized government in place that keeps watch over other magic creatures and protects Mundanes. It seems like the Ministry has existed longer than the Clave, if you read the histories right, so it's possible a faction of wizards and witches gave rise to modern day shadowhunters."

Alec and Isabelle glanced at each other. In all their lives, there had always been that one undeniable truth that they were chosen, that in their blood was the gift of the Angel to protect and serve and fight. It was unsettling, to say the least, that these witches and wizards so easily took up the mantel of protectors, and did it without flare or even appreciation.

"Is the Ministry of Magic like the Clave?" Alec wondered.

"Not especially," said Magnus. "It's very similar to a Mundane government, composed of multiple departments and committees, not one large council. They have a court system, trial by jury, magical law enforcement, their own form of police, if you will; it's very organized."

_So much more organized than the Clave, _Alec thought, reflecting on the corruption he had so recently witnessed. "They said Jace wasn't Valentine's son."

Magnus leaned forward. "Then whose is he?"

"He's a Herondale, they said," Alec said, recalling the look on Jace's face when he'd heard the truth. "How could they have known when the Clave didn't?"

"As to that, I've no idea." Magnus considered it. "They're very organized and very thorough; they keep records of _everything_. I heard they even keep an entire room just full of prophecies. I'm not surprised that they have records of Valentine, Jace, and Clary, given how unusual they are, not to mention that Valentine did pose a potential threat. They would have followed his actions with care."

"But to know about Jace and Clary?" Isabelle asked. "The Clave didn't even know!"

"The Clave doesn't have the resource of magical surveillance, does it?"

"So," said Isabelle, biting back a sharp retort, "is Albus Dumbledore in the government, then?"

Magnus chuckled. "Albus Dumbledore has been hailed as the greatest wizard of the age. I've never met the man personally, though I'd pay dearly for the chance. He's famous, famous for his published works, famous for his discovers with dragon blood, famous for his alchemy work, famous for his duel with Grindelwald in 1945, famous for his position as Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock, famous for everything he ever did. But, is he involved in the Ministry? He's not the Minister, if that's what you mean, though I've heard they offered him the position. I believe he's the headmaster of a rather well-known school."

"They mentioned him, they said they work for him, that he was the head of some Order?" Alec questioned.

"Now that's something I haven't heard of," said Magnus. "Not that I'm not surprised. I've heard that Dumbledore isn't getting on too well with the new Prime Minister. Any idea what this order does?"

"They fight another wizard," supplied Isabelle. "Lord-Lord something."

Magnus's eyes flew open again. "Lord Voldemort?" he hissed.

"That was it," said Isabelle with a quick smile.

"No, he's dead," said Magnus in an even voice. "He's been dead for about fifteen years now, ever since the Potters…"

"They said he was alive, and that's why they were here," said Alec, not liking the look on Magnus's face. "He was looking for Jace and Clary, and Dumbledore asked for Jace and Clary to move to a safe house or something like that."

Magnus swallowed. "And did Clary and Jace go?"

"Yes," said Alec bitterly. "That's why we're here. We want to know if there's any way to maybe contact-"

"No." Magnus stood up and turned away, his face in shadow. "Not right now, anyway. If Voldemort really is interested in your brother, it's best he be as far away from you as possible. Where he was taken, he'll be safer by far."

"You really think that?" Isabelle asked, one eyebrow raised. "Valentine is looking for them right now, and you really think Lord Voldemort takes precedence over him?"

Magnus looked at Isabelle as if she were speaking some other language. "Yes, Isabelle, I really do think that. You have no idea who Lord Voldemort is, what he's capable of, what he's done. Valentine Morgenstern, if we're lucky, will be as oblivious as you, go looking for Jace and Clary, and run astray of him while he's at it. Let me make this clear: there is no weapon you shadowhunters have that is any good in a wizards' duel. Swords and daggers, and bows and arrows are pointless to a wand. Valentine might summon demons, but they're hardly any different from dementors, and the wizards have a spell for that."

Isabelle felt her hand stray for the knife tucked against her upper thigh. "I think we'd hold our own."

"He wouldn't bother to duel you anyway," said Magnus, laughing darkly. "He'll only duel those who he considers worthy adversaries. You, my dear, Isabelle Lightwood, are not one of those."

"Why do you think he wants Jace and Clary?" asked Alec before Isabelle could respond hotly.

"I've no idea, but if Dumbledore took them, they must have been in true danger." Magnus walked to his window and paused, looking out over the city. Voldemort's shadow had never reached the United States, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be drawn into battle elsewhere. "I'll get you two something to drink, there's quite a story ahead."


	5. Introductions

**Hey, I decided to put this out a little early because I'll be pretty busy for the rest of the week. I hope you enjoy it!**

Introductions

"_Don't worry, you're just as sane as I am."_

_-Luna Lovegood_

"Not pretty, but highly useful in our current purpose," said Lupin, and he gestured them forward toward the building.

Moody threw open the garden gate and hobbled up the stairs, muttering to himself, and when they reached the door, he tapped it with his wand. Jace and Clary both froze, seeing nothing but darkness behind the door, and Jace had the fleeting desire to take Clary and run. He was aware that the two of them were completely alone, without help, and where faced with a dark, possibly dangerous house. There could be anything in there.

"Do we have to-"

"Hurry up!" Moody crowed, and then Tonks stumbled into them and they fell forward over the threshold.

"Sorry!" Tonks whispered as everyone piled in and the door closed behind them. "I'm dead clumsy."

Clary was going to respond but she was too occupied with her new surroundings. She had entered into a dark, musty hall with fluttering gas lights and smell of mildew hanging on everything. Somewhere close by, she could hear someone snoring, but there didn't seem to be any room in which to sleep. She saw to her right a staircase that lead up to somewhere better lit, and down the hall, a door that was slightly ajar, a beam of light peeking out. Quickly, she reached out for Jace's hand again, and he took hers firmly.

"What is this place-" Clary began, but Lupin silenced her.

"Shh. Go to the kitchen." He pointed toward the light at the end of the hall and Clary allowed herself to he shuffled forward.

_This certainly looks like the place Valentine would live, _Clary thought, wondering if Jace was worrying the same as her. _If this was some plan…_

Moody in the lead pushed the door wide and they found a staircase that led down into the bowels of the house. Taking the stairs carefully, Jace and Clary found themselves coming out in a spacious, long, low-ceilinged kitchen. A scrubbed, wooden table ran through the center of the room, its benches tucked in, and many cabinets lined the walls. At the end of the kitchen, Clary and Jace saw a small, plump, red-haired woman toiling over a large pot. When someone closed the door, she turned about.

"You're back!" she said, abandoning the pot and rushing down the room to them. "You're all back! And you're well?" She grabbed Tonks, the nearest, and began searching her over, saying, "We were so worried when you didn't come back from the Institute with the others, and then Arthur said you had to go immediately, and we haven't heard from Dumbledore…"

"We're fine, Molly, all of us are fine," said Lupin gently. "We have some new lodgers you ought to meet, as well."

Molly blinked and then her eyes found Clary and Jace. She jumped and then clasped them in turn to her breast. "Just look at you two! Wayward souls if there ever was a pair. Here, come in, come in," she said breathlessly, leading them into the kitchen and to the table. "You two look dead on your feet. I told Dumbledore it would have been better to go by broom, longer, but it doesn't wear you down as much. I'm sure you're both still trying to get your bearings. How about a nice warm mug of tea? The weather's so foul as it is…I can't imagine travel in this…" While she was speaking, Mrs. Weasley was busy pouring two steaming mugs of tea and snatching a plate of biscuits off the counter top and placing it before them. She smiled benignly down on them and they stared back, slightly unsettled.

"I'm Mrs. Weasley, by the way," she added.

"I'm Clary," said Clary after a beat. "Thank you."

"Pleasure, my dear, and you must be Jonathan-"

"Jace" he cut across her quickly, and waited for her to ask him why he changed his name.

However, she just gave his shoulder a quick pat and then bustled back over to the stove, saying over her shoulder, "Has Sirius checked the mattress yet? I sent him up there the moment he got back. I think it must have been jinxed by that awful mother of his; it kept growling at me when the boys helped me move it up."

"I'll go check," said Tonks, winking again at the shadowhunters before vanishing back up stairs.

Jace and Clary exchanged a look and Clary sipped the tea. Her nose scrunched up and she put the cup down with a quick, "Bergamot."

"You'll be rooming upstairs with the others," said Mrs. Weasley, pointing her wand at a pile of potatoes that began peeling themselves. "Clary, you'll be in with Hermione and Ginny, and Jace, I think we'll manage to squeeze you in with Harry and Ron. At least, we _should _be able to if they cleaned up that mess of theirs."

Jace glanced up from his tea; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been forced to share a room with someone. "With who?"

"My son, Ron, and Harry Potter. They're both students at Hogwarts as well, so you can all make friends before the term starts." Mrs. Weasley's eyes moved from them to their bags. "You two certainly packed light. We'll have to take you to Diagon Ally, I suppose."

"To where?" asked Clary.

"Diagon Ally," she said.

"Excellent! When?"

Clary and Jace both whipped around and found a group of people their own age emerging from the stairs. There were two girls, one with red hair as brilliant as Clary's, the other a bushy, brown mane, and two boys, both tall and one red-haired, the other dark and messy. It was the red-haired boy who had spoken, and he was looking at Mrs. Weasley expectantly.

"I want to visit Fred and George's joke shop," he said, slouching across the room and sitting opposite Jace and Clary.

"Where are your manners, Ron?" Mrs. Wesley snapped in return.

He looked nonplussed, but then noticed the two staring children across from him and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, right! I'm Ron. Guess we'll be bunking together," he said to Jace, shaking his hand. After a moment, the others came and offered hands and smiles.

"I'm Harry," said Harry with a quick look over the pretty, red-head and the handsome blond boy.

"Hermione Granger," added Hermione, beaming at them both.

"Ginny, I'm Ron's little sister." She blushed a little with Jace glanced at her.

Jace felt a little strange, shaking hands with a group of young Downworlders, especially four that looked so normal. He cleared his throat. "Do you all live here?"

"Just recently," said Hermione politely, sitting down. "I've come because it's best to keep my parents out of all this, Sirius is Harry's godfather, and as it's his house, well…and the Weasleys are here while the Order works on the Burrow. I suppose this place is so much different than an Institute?"

Jace raised his eyebrows and Ron and Harry laughed. "Hermione knows everything," said Ron.

"Not everything," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "I was just doing a bit of extra reading when we were studying alliances of magical/non-magical governments. Yours came up."

"Everything," Ron repeated.

Jace glanced around the kitchen. "It's a bit smaller and…dark."

"Well, that would be Sirius's mother's fault," Harry said swiftly. "We're going to spend a good bit of summer trying to fix it up."

"Sirius's mother?" Clary asked while Jace frowned at the idea that he set aside his weapons for mops and brooms.

"Batty old witch," said Ron. "Half the time she's screaming her head off upstairs."

"She's _here_?" Jace said incredulously.

"No, thank god," said Sirius, entering the kitchen and earning himself a round of appreciative laughter from everyone else. He grabbed the tea pot on the stove and helped himself to a mug before sitting down next to Harry. "She's died a while ago, but she plastered a painting of herself to the wall with a Permanent Sticking charm and we haven't been able to get it down. I'm about ready to tear the wall down, though, knowing her, she put it on a load-bearing wall." He shuddered at the idea.

"The painting of your mother…screams?" Clary asked.

Sirius grinned and it made him look years younger; Clary thought he should do it more. "I'll introduce you some time. Don't know what she'll like more, a bunch of Muggle-borns in her house, or some shadowhunters."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Lupin all laughed raucously at this, like it was some private joke, and Clary and Jace glanced around the table. "Your mother doesn't like us?" Clary guessed.

"Don't take it personally," said Sirius with a shrug. "She didn't like me either."

Jace, who felt an inkling of annoyance at their comradeship, said quickly, "You're cleaning for the rest of the summer?"

"It's a full time job," said Mrs. Weasley. "This place needs to be habitable for the Order, and it's been abandoned for ages. There're curses and jinxes all over the place…"

Clary opened her mouth, curious, to ask if curses even existed, but at that moment, something large, warm, and furry dashed between Clary and Jace's legs and they both jumped. "What was that?" Clary rasped, diving under the table just in time to see a ginger, bottle-brush tail vanished between legs.

When she came up again, Hermione was holding a huge, furry, ginger cat with a squashed face, and a pair of keen eyes. The cat looked from Clary to Jace, seemingly unimpressed. "This is Crookshanks, he's just my cat."

Jace eyed him speculatively, thinking that, Church, the Institute's cat, was thin indeed compared to this ball of fur and fat. "He's got character."

Ron and Harry both snorted into their hands, and when they looked up at Jace, Harry winked. "He's a royal pain," Ron said.

Sirius growled a bit like a dog. "That royal pain saved my life, if you recall. He's brilliant."

Jace glanced at Sirius. "We had a cat at the Institute."

"Did you? Well, Crookshanks is a bit better than a normal cat, probably not all cat, if you ask me." Sirius cast the cat a kindly look and Crookshanks purred, satisfied.

"Anyway," said Clary, still staring at Crookshanks and thinking of Luke's great wolf form. "You said we'd be cleaning?"

"I'm afraid so," said Mrs. Weasley, setting a stack of plates down on the edge of the table. She flicked her wand and they flew across the table, skidding to a halt before their owners. Jace noted the extra empty seats and wondered who else might be joining them. "I know it seems a tad bit…_dull_, but we never finished last year, and now that this war is under way in honest, it'll be important to keep this place running." Clary watched curiously as she waved her wand and some silver ware drifted toward them.

"Something to keep busy with I suppose," said Jace with a sigh. He had all but accepted that his new life was going to be one of mindless study and standing back while everyone else went to fight instead. His heart beat painfully; he was soldier, not a student.

_I'm sure Valentine's getting a kick out of this: his soldier, a run-of-the-mill Mundane. I might as well forget the training, since nothing ever happens-_

Jace's thoughts were cut off by the sound of something heavy slamming into the floor and making the ceiling shake. He glanced up as the same time as he reached for Clary just as the sound of loud, furious shrieking started up. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but from somewhere even more distant, a cry of pain rang through the house that sent Mrs. Weasley into a panicked flurry of motion, and she rushed from the kitchen, leaving the silver ware she had been about to dispense hanging in midair, tapping at their owners hands insistently. There was another heavy bang and a howl like a beast, a second cry of agony, this time answered by Crookshanks, who leapt from Hermione's hands across the table, landed before Jace, yowled, and streaked away upstairs.

Jace could feel Clary shaking in his grasp. "What was that?"

"The shrieking will be my mother," said Sirius with a long-suffering sigh. "I'll take care of it."

Lupin had stood as well. "If I'm not mistaken, the howling you heard was the mattress Tonks was handling. Sounds like it was definitely cursed. I'll go give her a hand."

Lupin and Sirius left the room and Jace turned back to face Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. He thought longingly of the Institute's peace, and was reminded of it more sharply when the cutlery began to jab him annoyingly. "Is it always like this?"

"Well," said Hermione hurriedly, obviously hoping to make a good impression, "we're just trying to work some kinks out. Part of the cleaning process is actually getting rid of curses and jinxes and stuff like that."

"Where was the screaming coming from?" Clary asked curiously, and then looked to Jace. "You heard it, didn't you? Not the portrait, but someone else screaming?" She turned her eyes on the others and she shared an uncomfortable look.

Harry opted to speak. "Did you hear about the attack on the London Institute?"

"Very recently," said Jace, frowning. "Why?"

"The only survivors were two children: a little girl named Madeline and her older brother, Nathaniel, goes by Nathan. Nathan was bitten by a werewolf during the attack and…we think he's contracted lycanthropy; it was so close to the full moon when he was bitten. He's healing up, but he's in a lot of pain. Mrs. Weasley put him in a bedroom on the third floor where it's quiet. Sounds like he woke up."

Clary was horrified. "You leave him up there?"

"Of course not," said Ginny, looking angry. "You really think my mum would let us? No, we all take turns sitting with him and his sister every day. He doesn't like to talk much, which is too bad. I think mum is hoping one of you might get him to open up since you're both shadowhunters."

Jace blinked. _He's probably not going to want Valentine's son for company. _"We'll have to meet him."

"It's part of daily chores," said Hermione simply. "Madam Pomfrey said it's best for him to have company, have people around him, especially since his parents passed away."

For his part, Jace had never heard of something like that. In his youth, no one had coddled him; if your parents died, they died, and you had to accept it. He certainly had. It was an odd idea, sympathy. He remembered Clary saying she was sorry his father had died, and he had laughed.

_I won't be much good if I can't even be sorry, _thought Jace, and, with a pang of annoyance, realized that the type of person Clary had idealized him as, were the people sitting across from him. The people who were brave and sympathetic, all at once, and he couldn't be them if he tried.

Dinner commenced then almost as soon as the noises all over the house had stopped, however, they were suddenly all focused in the kitchen. Both Clary and Jace were accustomed to small, intimate dinners with friends and family, in Jace's case, usually some form of take-out. The conversation would have been appropriate dinner talk, and, as Jace recalled from the few formal dinners he'd had with the Lightwoods, any straying into unsavory topics was met with a furious glare on Maryse's part.

Dinner at Grimmauld Place, however, was an entirely different affair. People began flooding into the kitchen a little past nine, and very strange people they were too. For their part, Clary and Jace were content to just watch, but soon there was conversation, and it was rather distracting. For instance, as soon as Lupin and Tonks returned, they were set up by the children for information about the mattress which had, according to Tonks, spat the bed clothes at her, shook in the bed frame, and then lunged across the room where it unfortunately fell flat, having no legs, it then proceeded to flop around, but when she drew near, growled like a wounded beast. Sirius's arrival began a parade of jokes aimed at his mother and his promise that they had to find some Un-sticking glue in Diagon Alley. Soon their other escorts, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared. Moody had gone to go report to Dumbledore and had been late, on account of running astray of some _Blast-ended skewerts_ that had escaped "that damned oaf's house" as Moody so bluntly put it. Kingsley had had a nice return to work at the Ministry, though, and had run into Arthur in the Department for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, who had told him he would be late to dinner, owing to what was supposed to be a protective medallion, but really just turned the wearer orange. Not long after that, a short, red-haired man with blood shot eyes arrived whom everybody addressed, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley, as "Dung," and who had a rousing tale of some hags he'd ran astray of earlier that week. Next, came two people, one with red hair as bright as Ron's held back in long, thick pony tail, and the other, possibly the most beautiful woman either Clary or Jace had ever seen; she smiled when she saw them and spoke with a very pronounced French accent. They were introduced as Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Bill threw himself down at the table and broke into some story about a goblin he'd had a row with about a bag of possibly jinxed rubies they'd just taken in. And still more people came: a small, exicited, Dedalus Diggle whose pocket watch was shouting at him, a tall Hestia Jones, and finally, Mr. Weasley returned.

_It's like being in a circus, _thought Jace while everyone sat down, talking animatedly. Across from him, Harry and Ron were engaged with Sirius and Lupin about something called Quidditch. Hermione was politely trying to speak with Clary. Ginny was requesting some faces from Tonks, who was obliging her with gusto. _This is a mad house._

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley shouted and suddenly pots and pans when flying across the table. Clary gave a cry and jumped back as a meal fit for fifteen landed loudly on the wooden table before her and proceeded to steam. "Alright, everyone, tuck in."

For a moment, no one moved, then there was a mad to get at the food. They both sat back, waiting for their turn as all around them, plates filled up. Clary caught sight of what seemed to be a bucket of mashed potatoes, a platter of chicken and beef pies, a bowl of salad, baskets of bread, and a number of other dishes she didn't know. She felt the warm, soft fur of Crookshanks again and looked down to see his big eyes staring at up her; when she looked up again, Hermione was holding out the platter of pies.

"Yes, thank you," said Clary stiltedly, and Hermione carefully transferred one to her plate.

"This place can be a bit busy during dinner time," said Hermione sympathetically. "A lot of the Order are working during the day, and Mrs. Weasley always makes a good meal. Sometimes, after dinner, there'll be a meeting." She said this last sentence meaningfully and Clary nodded slightly.

"Are there more members?" Clary wondered, watching Tonks transform her face into something shockingly like Isabelle Lightwood

"Oh, yes," said Hermione. "A lot of the teachers at Hogwarts are in as well, plus a number of other Ministry wizards and witches. But the people here now are the usuals."

Jace was paying close attention to what Hermione was saying and also enjoying what might have been the most delicious meat pie he'd ever tasted. "Then you're not in the Order?"

At this, Ron whipped around, shooting his mother and the other red-haired man a dark look. "We're too young, they say, to be in the Order. It's not fair, seeing as we've fought Death Eaters before-"

"Not that you were supposed to be!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply over the crowd.

Harry had glanced over at her with a guilty look, fully aware that he had led his friends to fight at the ministry. Jace, though, didn't seem to care. "But you can assume he'll be looking for you anyway, so you must be prepared to fight?"

Ron paused a moment and blinked; he hadn't met many people his own age who thought so defensively. "We know how to duel, if that's what you mean."

Jace glanced over Ron. He didn't seem like much of a warrior, but then, none of them did. "I would think that's best."

Sirius had been listening and nodded at Harry. "You ought to see them duel…not half bad."

Jace raised one eyebrow. "I suppose we'll have to learn to duel then?" Jace said it like it was disgusting. "Won't we need a…wand?"

"We'll get you one in Diagon Alley," supplied Sirius, "and probably some school robes and books and such."

Harry was now eyeing Jace closely. "Shadowhunters have good reflexes, right?" Harry asked.

Jace looked affronted and Clary snorted into her drink. "Yes, I would think we do" said Jace scathingly.

"What about a broom, Sirius?" Harry asked. "We need to fill a lot of places on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I bet you'd be a great Chaser."

Jace's mouth was slightly open. "I don't know what Gryffindor, Quidditch, or a _chaser_ is."

"Gryffindor is a school House," said Harry easily. "There are four of them, but we're all in Gryffindor. You get sorted when you first arrive at Hogwarts. I suppose Dumbledore will have to bring the Sorting Hat for you two to try."

"But you'll be in Gryffindor, of course," said Ron reasonably. "I mean, you're shadowhunters! You're raised to be…warriors," he finished lamely.

Clary could see Jace was looking mildly confused and slightly bitter at the mention of his heritage. "What do you mean?"

"The four Hogwarts Houses, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, each have qualities-traits-that mark them out for who they are," Lupin said kindly. "Gryffindor is known for bravery, chivalry, determination, and a certain vein of hard-headedness, if you ask me." Everyone laughed. "Ravenclaw has always favored wit and intelligence; Hufflepuff is known for its loyalty and patience; and then there's Slytherin, but you don't want to be there, I'd think."

"Why?" Clary asked, intrigued.

"Because there never was a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin," supplied Ron darkly. "You-Know-Who was in there."

Clary's eyes widened. "What if we're in that house?"

"You won't be," said Harry easily. "Slytherin House is known for their cunning, ambition, self-preservation-"

"Don't forget cowardice," added Sirius, smirking, and Harry laughed.

"You won't be in Slytherin," Harry repeated. "I bet anything you'll be in Gryffindor with the rest of us, which is why I think we need to get Jace a broomstick. I could use a good Chaser."

"Which you have yet to explain," rejoined Jace.

"Quidditch is a game we play, I'll explain it later, but Chaser is a position on the team." Harry glanced him over again. "We'd be unbeatable this year."

Jace shrugged and returned to mull over his food. He felt, oddly enough, suddenly tired, and he knew he was thinking of his bed back at the Institute in his carefully ordered room with a few favorite books. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley announced that the children would have to get up to bed since they were getting up very early the next day and she wanted Jace and Clary settled.

"Come with us," said Hermione kindly to Clary, and she and Jace trailed the other children out of the kitchen, picking up their packs as they went, and maneuvering the tight hall and stairs carefully. On the second floor, they followed Hermione and Ginny to the first room on the left. "This is where we sleep," said Hermione, indicating herself and Ginny.

It was smaller than Clary had thought she'd be sleeping in, but there was no doubting it was cozy. The floor was covered in a thick rug, there were two large trunks on the floor covered in freshly laundered clothes, two wardrobes, one, hanging open and empty, and three beds, one on the floor, and two bunked. Clary carefully wandered into the room, wishing for her bedroom at Luke's house painfully.

"Which bed is mine?" asked Clary.

"One of the bunks," said Ginny. "Whichever you like, and the spare wardrobe is for your things."

Clary tossed her things carelessly on the bottom bunk and sat down, looking at Jace who was standing in the door still. "Can I see the boys' room?"

Harry shrugged. "If you want."

_Jace is going to hate this, _thought Clary the moment she saw the room and thinking back to his scrupulously clean room.

The boys' room was what she thought a boys' room should be: a poorly contained mess. The floor space in the middle of the room had been cleared, however, the clothes, books, quills, and whatnot had simply been pushed to the sides. The trunks at the ends of the beds were open, and pairs of pants, shirts, and socks were creeping out. There was spell books here and there, their spines bending under pressure. By the door, a trash bin was growling, the contents shifting about as if the basket were chewing them. There were three beds, somehow arranged against three walls, and poking out from under two of them, were broomstick handles. On the window sill, a snowy owl was watching them with large, amber eyes, and she hooted softly at the sight of Harry; in a cage next to it, a small ball of fluff was zooming about, squeaking.

Ron shot Jace a weak smile. "It isn't much but it's home. You can have the bed by the window, so you won't have to listen to Phineus snore."

"Who?" Jace asked sharply, stepping lightly into the room like he might catch some disease from the floor.

Harry nodded at the painting on the wall, currently blank. "There's usually this git in there, but he's probably spying on Dumbledore right now. He'll show up now and then, though."

Jace stared at the black, oil painting, thinking of the one of Sirius's mother. "He scream?"

"No, just makes snide comments about how undeserving we are of living in his house," Harry said. "Anyway, we cleaned out the wardrobe for you, and you got the bed without the jinxed mattress."

Jace chucked his bag into the wardrobe, and it shook itself like a dog in return. He sank onto the bed as everyone else filed in. Clary joined him, but Harry tossed himself on his bed where Ginny perched, Ron pulled himself on to his own, and Hermione sat on the floor, using Ron's bed as a back rest. Jace could feel his chest constricting at the sight of this dismal place.

"How long are we staying here?" Jace flicked his gaze to the window and the grimy streets of London below. _Am I ever going to see New York again? _He wondered.

"Just till the end of summer; class starts September 1st." Harry could tell Jace was uncomfortable, and he felt a stab of sympathy when he remembered that earlier that day, Jace had been living comfortably in another country. "You'll like Hogwarts."

Jace and Clary both doubted that, but since there seemed no alternative to it, they both offered tired, half smiles. At that moment, though, Mrs. Weasley was returning from the sick room upstairs, and caught the look on Jace and Clary's face. "Alright, alright, enough talking, you need to get in bed; especially you two, look at you." She came in, pulled Clary up to her feet and shot Harry and Ron a look. "I want all of you in bed in an hour."

Clary allowed herself to be steered from the room and back to the girls' bedroom where Mrs. Weasley obsessively straightened the blankets. Ginny sighed loudly. "Mum, I'm sure Clary doesn't mind a few wrinkles in the sheets."

"Well, I do," she said waspishly, but stopped fixing the bed and shot Clary a warm look. "You just make yourself at home, dear."

As she left Ginny closed the door rather harder than she meant. "You be careful, Clary, if you look any more sweet and lost my mom is going to make you her second daughter."

Clary smiled diffidently while she changed into a pair of pajama bottoms and bed shirt, but a thought occurred to her. "Is there someone who _is_ planning on formally adopting us? Jace and I have no money, so we can't afford books and school clothes and things."

Hermione answered slowly. "I'm sure Dumbledore has thought of something for you."

If Hermione had meant to be comforting, Clary hadn't taken it that way. Clary found it very unnerving as she settled in bed and drew up the unfamiliar blankets. _Dumbledore has thought of something for you._ And if he didn't? What if she and Jace were going to be taken to Hogwarts for protection, and were just enlisted as servants? She didn't even know this man, this wizard everyone spoke of so highly, and she didn't think he knew much of her. Clary rolled over, trying to block out the vision of a contently sleeping Hermione and Ginny.

_Well, even if you do up a maid or something, at least you'll have Jace with you._


	6. Fallen Warrior

Fallen Warrior

_According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scars than almost anything else._

_-J.K. Rowling_

Isabelle felt cold, sitting on Magnus's couch, clutching a glass of tea he had offered and feeling sick to her stomach. Magnus's story of Lord Voldemort and his first rising had not done anything to settle her nerves about Jace's disappearing. It seemed that he had left behind Valentine and traded up for an even worse enemy. She didn't know much about this new wizarding world, but she understood enough from Magnus that it was now in turmoil, and that keeping Jace here would have left him in more danger. She sipped her tea thoughtfully.

"Do you know where the school is?" asked Isabelle.

Magnus stirred. "I've no idea."

"What do you mean?" Alec asked sharply. "I thought you knew all about the school?"

"Of course I do, but it doesn't mean I know where the school is." Magnus was looking out the window across the city. "It's in Europe somewhere, I can tell you that much. But the school has more charms on it than you could imagine. It's almost impossible to find unless you're told where to go."

"But, we need to get there," Isabelle said plaintively, simply, as if this had been the entire point of their conversation.

Magnus laughed. "For what reason?"

"To help Jace fight!"

"Haven't you been listening?" Magnus shook his head pityingly and looked to Alec, but the other Lightwood seemed as set on finding Jace as his sister. "This war that your brother has been drawn into isn't one you can fight. They took Jace to protect him, but they can't offer you the same."

"I don't need them to protect me," Isabelle said with certainty. "I think I can handle a few warlocks-"

"They _are not_ warlocks!" Magnus snarled suddenly, turning on Isabelle like a snake. "Haven't I said that already? You have no idea how to fight a wizard because their magic is different from mine. They could destroy you with the flick of a wand." Magnus glowered at Isabelle's flashing eyes. "The wizarding world is no place for a shadowhunter."

"I don't care," said Isabelle swiftly. "I'm not leaving Jace. He's our brother, and he's Alec's parabatai. He needs us with him."

"He's got Albus Dumbledore to protect him now," Magnus said with a smirk. "I hardly think there's anything you could offer him that's better than that."

Isabelle's eyes flashed. "Jace is a Lightwood and we're not abandoning him."

Magnus turned to face Alec. "Do _you_ understand, Alec, how dangerous the situation is? Do you understand that Jace is in a better place with this Order than here without?"

Alec bit his lip. "I know he's better off, but that doesn't mean I like the idea of it."

"You might like it more knowing your parabatai is safe." Magnus rested his chin on his intertwined fingers and viewed Alec sadly. "I understand you'd like to find Jace and Clary, but it might be best just now."

_He's my brother, he's been my brother for years, and you just want me to forget him? _Alec's life had been defined by Jace since they'd met, and the idea of leaving him to these people was distasteful. _I'm going to find him, I'm going to find this school and these people._

Alec jumped when he felt Magnus's long-fingered hand pat his knee gently. "I know it hurts now, but this wizard…Voldemort. He's not the type of man you can fight."

Alec's startling eyes lifted up to Magnus's and he was in pain. "He's my _brother_."

"I'm sorry."

Like a shot, Alec was up and heading for another room in Magnus's apartment that he apparently knew. Magnus followed after him, muttering under his breath, and Isabelle was left alone with her tea. She watched them go with a sinking feeling and sat back, looking out on the dark city. She wondered where her brother and friend had been taken, how far away they might have gone, and if they were thinking of her at that moment. She cast a look in the direction Alec and Magnus had vanished, but she heard and saw nothing. Isabelle drained her mug of tea quickly, shrugged on her coat, flipped open her phone and dialed the first number she thought of.

"Simon, hey, it's Isabelle. Will you meet me somewhere? We need to talk."

* * *

"_Everyone you love will die, Harry Potter." He said it, but it was more than a voice. It was in his head, pounding around his skull, tearing his soul apart. "I will kill everyone you love."_

_Harry tried to tear his gaze away from the red eyes, the snakelike red eyes, gleaming hungrily at him. "No…" he said, but Voldemort was laughing at him. _

"_You will have nothing before the end, I will make sure of that." _

_Harry was running, running down the long corridor he recognized as the Department of Mysteries, but behind him, he heard the whisper of a cloak and the soft footsteps, and still the voice was in his ear. He was running, running faster and suddenly the floor lurched and he was falling into a pit of snakes, and still the laughing and the voice._

"_They will die, Harry Potter…"_

"No!" Harry sat bolt upright, drawing deep breaths, feeling for his glasses on the bedside table. He slipped them on and found that he was back in his room at Grimmauld Place. The window showed him that the sun was just peeking over the rooftops of London and he must have woken earlier than the rest.

_It was only a dream, only a nightmare._ Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _It didn't happen. _Still, he couldn't forget the voice in his ear or the laughter that haunted his dreams.

"Bad dream?"

Harry jerked about and saw that the other boy, Jace, was staring at him. In the faint light of morning, his eyes were bleached of color and they were a pale yellow, almost like a cat's. He raised one eyebrow curiously. Harry looked away; he didn't know if he appreciated the penetrating gaze of the shadowhunter who had the look of much older man.

"It was nothing," Harry shrugged and leaned back. "Why are _you_ up so early?"

This time, it was the other boy's turn to look away uncomfortably. "I wasn't tired."

Harry peered at Jace and felt his stomach clench with guilt. Mrs. Weasley had rallied them earlier the other day, before Clary and Jace arrived, and had told them the two were to be treated with the utmost kindness; that they had lost their families and friends and would be very uncomfortable for a few days. Jace's face might have been paled due to the sun, but it also could have been his own discomfort, and Harry sighed.

"You want to go get something to eat? I'm sure there are leftovers from dinner, probably some butterbeer or something," Harry asked, watching the other boy closely; he looked oddly stiff.

"What exactly is butterbeer?" Jace asked, placing his feet on the cold floor. He stood and stretched catlike while Harry pushed the blankets aside and rolled out of bed much less gracefully.

Harry nodded to the door, pointing at the sleeping Ron, and they left the room. The halls were silent, the lights doused, the figures in their frames snoring lightly. They took the stairs carefully, making sure to skip any creaky steps, and arrived at the landing, hyperaware of Mrs. Black's loud, ungainly snoring. Jace paused a moment to stare at the picture, still confused by how there could be a talking painting, but Harry nudged him and the two slipped down the hall and into the kitchen. Jace sat while Harry rummaged for two glasses of butterbeer and some left over rolls from dinner.

"So, what is butterbeer?" Jace tried again, eyeing the drink before him now.

"It's a drink. It tastes great." Harry was unable to say anymore owing to a long draw on his own drink. Jace peered at it closely but Harry laughed. "It's not poison, mate."

Jace shot him a look before sipping it; he was surprised by the warm feeling that surged through his body and the happy afterglow it left. Feeling foam under his nose, Jace sneezed without meaning to and the foam in the drink flew everywhere.

Harry found it very amusing. "I thought you lot were supposed to be savvy and elegant," he laughed.

Jace prepared a sharp retort, but the response died on his lips when he saw that Harry's eyes were glowing more with kindness than anything else. "I've never had this before, even at some of the Downworlder places I've eaten at."

"Downworlder?" Harry asked, taking another sip of his drink.

Jace blinked. "It's a term we use for…non-human, non-shadowhunter people." He waited to see how Harry would take the name and found the other boy looking casually interested.

"We call non-magic folk Muggles." Harry flicked his gaze over Jace. "I suppose we just call you lot shadowhunters, and werewolves, werewolves, and vampires, vampires, and-"

"I think I get it," Jace grunted, feeling obtuse and crude. "What's Hogwarts like?"

Harry looked up a moment. "Don't you go to school?"

"Well, yes, but it's different," Jace said. "It's just me and the Lightwoods, and we study demonology. I assume Hogwarts isn't so small or so specific."

"It's just you and the Lightwoods?" Harry gaped. "How many of you are there?"

"Me, Isabelle, and Alec," Jace said simply and he saw the same surprise he had seen on Clary's face. "It's not like I need a lot of friends to study with. The Institute had everything I needed."

"Well," said Harry indifferently, "there's a lot more students at Hogwarts, and you have class with them, and you spend a lot of time in the common room with them. I think Hogwarts Castle is bigger than the Institute too, and there's lots of secret passage ways, but we know them all because we've got the Marauders Map, so we can avoid teachers and Filch and Mrs. Noris."

Jace had stopped drinking the butterbeer and was staring at Harry. "Filch and Mrs. Noris?"

"The caretaker and his cat," said Harry darkly. "It'll take you about five minutes to hate them both, but I'm sure you'll like it there all the same. So, what's it like being a shadowhunter?"

Jace had been about to ask more about Hogwarts, but noticed that Harry found him as interesting as he found Hogwarts. "It's a lot of work, I suppose," Jace mused, looking into his drink. "I started training when I was four."

"_Four_?" Harry pressed.

Jace looked away. "Well, my father-" He flinched as he remembered the truth of his parentage. "_Valentine_ started training me very young, but normal shadowhunters don't start till their ten or eleven."

"Same with wizards," Harry said helpfully. "I found out I was a wizard on my eleventh birthday. Hogwarts sent someone to tell me and help me buy all my stuff."

"You didn't know?" Jace had thought all wizards and witches would know what they were; he had known since he could open his eyes he'd been a shadowhunter.

Harry smiled ruefully. "My parents died when I was one, and I went to live with my aunt and uncle. They don't really like magic so I never knew."

"Sirius said Voldemort murdered your parents," Jace commented, thinking of Valentine faking his own death and leaving him. "I suppose people ask you about it all the time."

Harry shrugged. "They used to, but now all anyone cares about is if I'm _The Chosen One_ or not. You think the Ministry would have better things to deal with than a prophecy that might not even have existed, but no. It's all over the papers, too. I'm sick of reading about myself." Harry looked suddenly uncomfortable, like the idea that people found him intriguing was silly, and Jace felt a stab of sympathy. He'd had his own bitter experiences during his short stint as Valentine's son.

"I get the feeling I'm not taking Voldemort serious enough," Jace said, turning the conversation away from Harry's parents and life.

"You're not used to his lot yet. Once you live with us for a while, you'll start to get the hang of things. I had the same problem." Harry smiled faintly. "When I first found out I was really famous in the wizarding world, I didn't know who Voldemort was, and I kept saying his name all the time and people thought I was really brave. Bunch of rubbish, I just didn't know anything."

Jace took a bite of his roll. "Maybe it'll hit me before school."

"If not everyone will think you're just really brave…or really stupid. One or the other." Harry's eyes suddenly glimmered. "You know how to fight right? Without wands?"

Jace looked incredulous. "Of course."

"There's this student at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy, and his father is Death Eater, and he really hates all of us. You think you could…?"

Smirking, Jace said, "Teach him a lesson? Yes."

"Brilliant," Harry said. "I think we could really use you on the Quidditch team."

Resigned to his fate that he had to play Quidditch, Jace said, "So, what is this game?"

Harry launched into a detailed description of the game, the finer points of play, the roles of each member, and the different types of brooms. By the time he'd finished, there were noises from above and the rest of the house was waking. Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, flicking her wand at the stove and watching it burst into life. She was followed closely by Ron, who, upon hearing the topic, promptly educated Jace on his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. While the bacon sizzled, the three girls came stumbling in yawning and sniffing the air hopefully. By the time breakfast was ready, Sirius had arrived followed closely by Remus and Tonks.

"What's the agenda for today?" Harry asked hopefully as he dug his fork into a pile of hash browns.

"Well, _you_ lot will be tackling the study on the third floor, though there might be a boggart hiding in the desk." Sirius saw Harry's face drop. "It's Diagon Alley tomorrow, though."

"Excellent," said Harry with renewed vigor. "When do we know what house Jace and Clary are in? The sooner I know they're in Gryffindor, the sooner Jace can get a broom for tryouts."

Hermione rolled her eyes expressively at Clary, saying something like, "_Quidditch,_" but Ron seemed just as curious. Sirius said, "I think Dumbledore is coming by tonight with the Sorting Hat."

"Sorting _Hat_?" Clary piped up, looking curiously from person to person. "Like, an actual hat?"

"It can talk," said Hermione thoughtfully, then added quickly, "And see inside you head."

"What?" said Clary, thinking of her last experience with people in her head. "I don't want a hat in my head."

"It won't be as bad as you think," said Hermione kindly. "It just needs to know where to put you."

Clary glanced over at Jace, and they both frowned, thinking of the Silent Brothers. "And we have to do it?" Jace asked.

"Well, yeah," said Harry blankly.

Before Jace could respond, Mrs. Weasley arrived, holding a tray with a plate of pancakes with bacon, eggs and a glass of orange juice. She glanced at Jace and said, "Would you mind taking this up to Nathanial and Madeline, dear?"

Jace looked around the table at the others. "Who?"

The table fell oddly silent and Lupin said, "The young shadowhunter who was bitten by the werewolf and his sister. He's recovering upstairs and she never leaves his side."

"I don't think…" How could Jace explain to these people that he was practically Valentine's son, that he was the equivalent of Voldemort's son in the shadowhunter world? "They might want someone they know."

"I think it might do them some good to have one of their own around him," said Mrs. Weasley, holding out the tray. "They've been so moody these days, not that I can blame them, but I think they might come around if they got you to talk to."

Jace saw the many eyes turned to him, and he felt his will crumbling; with a resigned sigh, he stood and took the tray. "Which door is it?"

Mrs. Weasley broke into a smile. "Third floor, fourth door on the right."

Treading the hall carefully once more, Jace creaked up the stairs, his fingers tightening on the tray, his mind on the young man waiting. _He's not going to want me. Even if he _is _a werewolf now he's not going to want Valentine's son as a friend. _Jace arrived on the third floor landing and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. _I'm the last person he'd want._

"Comb your hair!" the mirror snapped and him and Jace almost dropped the tray.

Hurrying away from the mirror and the waspish voice, Jace found himself outside the door to the fourth room. He didn't hear anything, and for a moment, he wondered if the shadowhunter had died, but he knew that when Mrs. Wesley came up later, and found the two unfed, she'd be furious. Groaning, he shouldered open the door and was met with a room in shadow.

"Nathanial?" Jace asked softly, closing the door and adjusting his eyes to the dark. "Madeline? My name is Jace, Mrs. Weasley sent me up."

Silence, and then-"Who's there?" It was a high voice, a child's voice, and it sounded panicked.

"Madeline?" Jace said, coming into the room. There was a creak of the bed, the sound of small, uncertain feet on the floor, and Jace saw the figure of small child standing before the bed defensively.

"Go away!" said Madeline, and Jace saw her more properly. She was small, small like Max, with a head of thick, brown curls, large eyes, and small pouting lips that were currently curled in a snarl. "Don't you come near my brother; he's not done anything wrong!"

Jace reached to the wall and flicked on the lights. There was only one, bare bulb, but it was enough to make the figure on the bed groan and curled up tighter in the blankets. Madeline was glaring at Jace from her place on the floor, and Jace was hit with a wave of memories of Max. He held out the tray. "I brought you some food. I'm not here to hurt your brother, I swear on the Angel."

Madeline glanced at the tray and then at Jace arms still Marked up, considering his words. He knew what she saw. "Why are you here? I thought we were the only survivors?"

_The London Institute…_ "I'm not from here."

She peered closely, still not moving from her protective position. "Then why are you here?"

Jace felt a faint smile on his face. "It's a long story. I'd be happy to tell you both, but I can't until you eat." On the bed, Jace heard Nathanial moan and roll on his back. He tried to get a better view of the shadowhunter, but he was buried deep in the blankets. "Come on, have your breakfast."

Madeline carefully climbed up onto the bed, not taking her eyes from Jace, and whispered something to the figure on the bed. A murmur issued from the blankets and the girl sat up, giving Jace a haughty look. "Put it on the bed, but sit in the chair."

Jace raised his eyebrows at the girl's command, but shrugged and placed the tray within her reach before taking a seat by the bedside table. Madeline snatched up the tray, examined it, and then pulled back the blankets so her brother could eat. Jace leaned closer, waiting for a look of the other boy, and was rewarded with good look at his face. He was handsome, with the same curly hair as Madeline and a pair of dark blue eyes. It was when he sat up straighter and the blankets fell back that Jace saw the bloodied bandages and gauze that were covering most of his right shoulder. _It'll never heal,_ he thought with waking horror. When Nathanial caught Jace looking, he frowned.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Jace blinked. "It's a bad bite."

Nathanial flinched and placed the fork full of eggs down. "I noticed, thanks."

"I didn't mean to point it out, I just-" Jace broke off. What had he meant? "You're Nathanial, right?"

"You know I am," he said, and picked up his fork, stabbing the eggs again while Madeline continued to glare him. "Where did the Order find _you_? Dumped in the gutter?"

"I wish," said Jace with a twisted smile. "You know who Valentine Morgenstern is?"

A tremor raced through Nathanial. "My family is dead, I am a werewolf, and my sister is an orphan because those Death Eaters were looking for Valentine Morgenstern's children. I will never forget that name."

Jace felt his stomach clench. _He'll know sooner or later._ "I'm his step-son."

Nathanial was quiet a long time, his eyes raking Jace's slouched figure. After a minute of silence, he said, "Did the Order find you before the Death Eaters murdered your family?"

"Yes," Jace answered.

"Then you're fortunate," Nathanial said quietly, and he looked at his food like it would speak to him comforting words. "So, they brought you here to keep you safe."

Jace wondered momentarily if he had been brought here to keep himself safe or to keep his family safe. "I don't know."

Nathanial took a bite of eggs. "What about Valentine's daughter? They mentioned a girl too, so I assumed she was his."

"Her name is Clary." The boy was now examining a piece of bacon, and he didn't seem too concerned with her. "She's not really one of us."

"One of _us_?" Nathanial laughed without humor. "One of _us_? Who exactly is _us_? I'm a werewolf now, and you're not exactly joining up with the local Institute. Don't kid yourself, Jace, you're never going back."

It was a crude, empty analysis, but Jace knew he was right. Nathanial could never return to the Clave, not now, and his sister didn't seem willing to leave his side. If Madeline didn't start training soon, she would lose her chance at a proper shadowhunter life. As for himself and Clary, they couldn't return until the war was over, and Jace wondered if he would be welcome back when they did. He was about to be enrolled in a wizarding school, train as a wizard, start a new life in their world.

_If Valentine takes the Clave we'll never be allowed back._ Jace knew without a doubt that his father would never let him return, no matter how much be pleaded.

"You could make a life for yourself." Jace glanced around. "The people here seem nice enough, willing enough to help you find a place."

Nathanial snarled, shoving the half eaten food away. Madeline jumped and grabbed her brother's arm; Jace thought it was a rather brave thing, trying to calm a werewolf. "Because _that's_ what I want! I was a shadowhunter, I was a soldier, I was going to be one of the best, and now look at me. You have no idea what it's like to have everything and then see it torn away, far beyond your reach. I'm an animal!" He jerked his arm away from his sister, but then noticed the look on her face and the energy went out of him, and he brushed the hair out of her face in apology. "And what of Madeline?" he asked Jace sharply. "What's to become of my sister?"

"I'm staying with you," Madeline said sharply, and she grabbed his arm again. "I don't care if you can't go back, I won't go without you."

"Madeline…" Nathanial said, and he suddenly couldn't look at Jace; it was like he couldn't bear to argue with his sister. "We'll talk about it later."

"No," she said resolutely. "No, I'm staying. We can go with Mr. Lupin together."

"Lupin, what's he got to do with anything?" asked Jace.

Nathanial glowered at Jace. "He's a werewolf. He offered me a home, a place to stay while I…figure things out."

"We'll both go," Madeline said. "And Ms. Tonks can come too. She likes to talk to me," she added for Jace's benefit.

Jace nodded, and his opinion that Lupin was very similar to Luke only strengthened. "That's a very kind offer."

"Kind!" Nathanial snapped. "It's sympathy, and I don't want it." He shifted, as if to come at Jace, but Madeline's grip tightened on his sleeve and he slumped. "Are you happy, taking their sympathy?"

Jace balked, but there was a bad taste in his mouth. "I don't think I have choice in the matter."

This seemed to satisfy Nathanial, and he nodded. "That's how it is, isn't it? What's the alternative, where do we go from here? This war of theirs ruined our lives, and now we just have to let _them _pick up the pieces."


	7. Valentine's Secret

Valentine's Secret

_Happiness can be found in even the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

Isabelle sat in the booth ,drumming her fingers against the coffee cup before her, and wondering what was taking Simon so long. Every now and then, the door would open and she would straighten up, looking for the familiar messy brown hair, the pale face, the curious expression, but it was always someone else, some other Downworlder, and Isabelle would slouch back down in her seat. Twice, Kali came by, wondering if she needed anything else.

_I need my brother back,_ Isabelle thought bitterly, but she just offered up a tired smile and said no. After thirty minutes of waiting, the door finally banged off the wall and Simon appeared, looking harassed. He spotted Isabelle stirring her coffee and joined her.

"What the hell is going on?" Simon started before Isabelle could even open her mouth. "I went to Luke's to get my laptop and when I asked where Clary was he said she was gone. He didn't say where, he didn't say why, just that she had gone. Her room is empty too; all her stuff is gone."

"Jace is gone too," said Isabelle blankly. She had only just realized that Simon would be as devastated by Clary's absence as she was by Jace's. "They both left."

"Together?" Simon asked sharply. "Or did Valentine find them?"

"No, it's…" Isabelle didn't even know what it was that she was trying to say. She didn't know what had happened to Jace and Clary, and she still didn't fully grasp the threat that was Lord Voldemort. She felt a sudden blaze of anger directed at her parents, Hodge, and the Clave for leaving she and her brothers so ignorant. "There's a man named Lord Voldemort-"

"Valentine changed his name?" Simon said tiredly. "Sounds like something he'd do."

"No, Simon," said Isabelle testily. "He's a warlock, and I guess he's really dangerous, at least, that's what everyone _says_. And he's looking for Clary and Jace for some reason." Simon opened his mouth but Isabelle was faster. "We don't know why. But these people showed up and explained it all to my mom and Luke, and Clary and Jace went with them to this school."

"They went," said Simon slowly, "to a school? Because schools are the height of security."

"I don't know, Simon! There's another warlock, Dumbledore, and he's the one who asked Clary and Jace to go to the school because he's the headmaster and he's really famous. Magnus says he's this great warlock that Voldemort's afraid of."

"Where's the school?" Simon asked expectantly. "I take it you're going after them?"

"I want to go." Isabelle pushed the coffee away angrily. "Alec and I went to Magnus to ask him about it, but he's got no idea where the school is, and he said it's better we don't go because Voldemort is really dangerous and shadowhunters can't fight him anyway."

"I thought it was your job?" Simon said angrily.

"The Clave lied!" Isabelle snapped back and Simon furrowed his brow. "They don't tell us about these people because they're not like normal warlocks. Their magic is different and our weapons don't work against it."

Simon saw that Isabelle seemed very unsettled by the fact there was something she couldn't fight, but there was a more pressing issue. "So, there's no way to get them back?"

"Jace said he'd come back once the war was over," Isabelle said listlessly. "But they don't know when the war will end. They don't even know where Voldemort is."

"But you'll be fighting, won't you?" Simon asked. "The Clave can help these warlocks, and then they can help us fight Valentine."

"They don't care about Valentine," said Isabelle with a laugh. "You should have heard the way they spoke. It was like he didn't even matter."

"Valentine is going to go looking for his children," Simon said darkly.

Isabelle jumped. "Jace isn't Valentine's son," she said at once. "They said their Ministry was keeping records and that Jace isn't his son; he's the grandson of Inquisitor Herondale."

"That horrible woman?" Simon balked, thinking of the way she had carelessly dismissed Jace as nothing more than a dangerous child underfoot. "_She's_ his grandmother?"

"Imagine how Jace took it," Isabelle muttered with a dark look.

"So," said Simon, and he could feel a gulf opening up in him. "So, Clary and Jace aren't brother and sister."

Isabelle eyed him keenly and then smiled bitterly when she realized what Simon was thinking. "No, no they're not, and they've left together, the only two shadowhunters in a world of warlocks. If they ever do come back, I don't doubt they'll have fallen in love."

Simon, who had been staring mindlessly into the rest of the restaurant, started. "They'll come back, Izzy. You and I both know there's no Downworlder who can stop Jace, and he's not going to let anything happen to Clary."

"These people aren't normal Downworlders." Isabelle shivered. "They attacked the London Institute and killed everyone but two children. There were more than a hundred shadowhunters living there when they attacked, Simon. I don't think Jace has ever met people like this."

Simon wondered if there was anything Jace wasn't able to handle, and realized if there was, then he didn't want to see it. "Then what's going to happen?"

"Happen?" Isabelle looked up sharply, as if confused by what he meant. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is the next move? Where do we go from here?" Simon searched her face.

Isabelle leaned back looking frustrated. "We're not doing anything. There's nothing we can do."

* * *

When Jace returned to the lower level of the house, it was to find the kitchen empty save for all but Sirius, who was flicking through the _Daily Prophet_ absently. When he saw Jace, he nodded his head toward the door. "The others have gone with Molly up to the second floor. The drawing room needs cleaning."

"Great," Jace said gruffly, turning on his heel sharply and leaving. His conversation with Nathaniel had not left him in a good mood. Though he'd try to forget what the other boy said, there was so much that seemed true. He _was_ depending on the mercy of these people, and he despised depending on anyone for anything.

When he arrived at the drawing room, it was to find Mrs. Weasley giving directions on the curtains, rugs and a cabinet that, unless Jace was mistaken, was making grumbling sounds like deep-sleep snores. When she saw him, Mrs. Weasley smiled and waved him in.

"We've got a day ahead of us," she said. "The carpets and curtains need de-pixing, and the cabinet needs to be cleaned and dusted, and I think I'll have Sirius come have a look at the desk. Can't have you lot dealing with a boggart."

"A what?" Clary asked as Jace took a place by her side.

"A boggart," said Hermione. "It takes the form of whatever it is you fear most."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "A fear demon? Valentine kept one on his ship, we know how to handle them."

"Really?" Ginny was smiling slightly at Jace. "I always got the feeling shadowhunter were a lot more…professional in their demon slaying."

"What do you mean?" asked Clary. "All you do is stab it with a seraph blade."

Ron and Harry's eyebrows rose into their hair lines and Mrs. Weasley said, "Yes, well, we won't be doing that today. I'll have Sirius come take a look at it, but I'm sure he'll let you help."

"Help?" Jace repeated, crestfallen.

"For now, everyone take a bottle of doxycide. Girls, you'll do the curtains, boys the rugs. And remember to cover your mouths with these rags. And watch out, they bite!"

Jace and Clary got in line behind Hermione and each took a rag and bottle of pesticide. Clary then followed Hermione and Ginny over to the curtains, looking uncertainly at the fabric which was buzzing faintly. She noticed that both Hermione and Ginny had covered their mouths with the rags and were waiting for the signal that they should begin; quickly, Clary followed suit and took a place beside Ginny. Over by the boys, Jace was staring at the pesticide can, completely nonplussed. Mrs. Weasley went to stand by the quivering desk and give instructions.

"Alright! On three, everyone spray!" Clary looked ready to ask a question but Mrs. Weasley called, "One, two…_three_!"

Following suit, Clary and Jace began to spray the curtains and rugs respectively. As soon as the aerosol hit the fabric, a cloud of furious, buzzing creatures seemed to appear. They whizzed through the air, gnashing their teeth and scraping at the air with small claws. Clary was reminded of the small, annoying creature that had bit her in the Seelie Court.

_At least if they bite me I won't be trapped in this house, _thought Clary faintly. At her side, however, Hermione and Ginny were carelessly spraying the pixies and tossing their limp bodies into a bag. _Bit easier to deal with, though._ Clary cast a glance over at Jace, who was holding up a pixie with a look of dislike and she snorted.

The cleaning of the pixies took at least an hour. Afterward, Mrs. Weasley brought them all tea and they took a short break.

"Well, that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it might," said Mrs. Weasley, looking around the room with a satisfied expression. "We'll have to start work on the desk and cabinets before lunch."

_Is tea all they drink here?_ Jace wondered. It wasn't exactly bad but he was used to a bit more variety. "I can help with the thing in the desk."

Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly. "Oh no, we'll let Sirius take care of it." Jace looked away, feeling embarrassed for having been dismissed so readily, but it must have been a theme in the household because Ron rolled his eyes and Harry smiled just slightly. "But, there some nasty things lurking in those shelves that I think are just the thing for you."

"Oh, but can't we help Sirius?" Ron asked and he looked longingly at the desk.

"Absolutely not," she said. "After everything that happened last year you want to break the law?"

_Last year?_ Jace wondered, but saw Ron and Harry look away.

Mrs. Weasley was up already and flicked through the curtains before heading to the door. "No, I'll call him up here shortly. You lot, just get to work on that cabinet, maybe even the book shelves."

As soon as she had left, Ron said despairingly. "It's not like we can't fight a boggart. We've been doing it since third year!"

"Yes, but your mom is right," said Hermione. "You'll have to break the law to do it."

This didn't seem to bother Harry or Ron who looked pleased with the notion. Jace took the opportunity to speak. "What happened last year?"

"I was almost expelled from Hogwarts for using magic outside of school." When Clary and Jace raised both their eyebrows, he added quickly, "I was framed, though, so it's okay."

"Yeah, plus everyone loves Harry now. He's the 'Chosen One,' haven't you heard?" Ron sniggered, and Harry aimed a punch at him. "After all the mess they put us in last year with Umbridge and You-Know-Who they'd probably give you a medal for doing magic out of school."

"Who's Umbridge?" Clary asked.

"A toad," answered Ginny brightly, and they all laughed. "But, really, she does look like one. Last year, the Ministry thought Harry and Dumbledore were crazy and the Fudge tried to take Hogwarts away from Dumbledore, and he put Umbridge there to spy on us."

"Fudge?" Jace said.

"Minister of Magic," grunted Ron.

"And what happened?" Clary said.

"Fudge got sacked," said Harry with a slight smirk. "And Dumbledore is still Headmaster."

Jace considered this and was about to ask how he'd managed that when the door opened and Sirius strolled in. "So, we've got a boggart in the desk, have we?"

"Mrs. Weasley thinks so," said Hermione and she cast a look over at the desk, which obliged them with an ominous shake.

"Right, well, who'd like to help?" Sirius asked, clapping his hands.

"Help? But, Mrs. Weasley said-"

"It's an educational opportunity, Hermione," said Sirius, winking. "You don't need to do magic, just help me confuse it. Fair?" Hermione looked split between desire to help and disapproval, but Harry and Ron, and Jace, with an encouraging nod from Harry, looked more than happy to tag along.

"So, how do you fight a-boggart, did you call it?" asked Jace, looking around the room for potential weapons. "Do you still have my stele?"

Sirius cleared his throat while Harry and Ron stared. "We don't really go in for knives," said Ron blankly.

Jace looked confused and Sirius took pity on him. "A boggart is a monster that takes the shape of whatever it is you fear most."

"A fear demon," said Jace, and Clary looked a little pleased. "Clary can make a Fearless rune."

"You don't actually need a rune to stop a boggart," said Sirius, pulling out his wand. "See, what really finishes a boggart is _laughter_."

Clary saw Jace's face drop. "Excuse me?" she asked politely.

"Laughter, that's how you stop a boggart. So, a boggart will normally take the shape of what you fear, but the trick is to force it into a shape you find amusing. For this, we use a charm, _riddikulus_, which will transform the boggart into a more amusing form of your fear."

Still, Clary saw Jace's face looking blank and confused. "And how can we help?"

Before Sirius could answer, Hermione responded. "A boggart will take the form of what you fear most, but first it must decide what you fear most, and if there are seven of us, it will have a difficult time deciding what to become." When Jace still looked uncertain, Hermione smiled. "It'll be fine, really, it's quite easy. You just need to be prepared."

"I-alright," said Jace quickly and then casually, "What do we have to do?"

"Oh, just line up over there behind me," said Sirius and then faced the desk, which wobbled again. Sirius pointed his wand at the desk, flicked it, and one of the drawers snapped open. Out of it came a very long, very hairy, black leg, then another and another, until the entire body of a spider emerged, snapping its pincers and scuttling on its legs.

Jace, who had been expecting something a bit more frightening, felt confused, and heard Ginny mutter, "Ron." When he turned his attention back it was to see Sirius aiming his wand and yelling, "Riddikulus!"

There was a loud _pop_, and the spider was now wearing roller skates and its many legs were wobbling beneath it as it attempted to remain steady. Clary burst into laughter just as another _pop_ and the spider was now an awful looking black wraith creature. It drew a rattling breath and reached out a dead-looking hand, but there was a crack, and the wraith unfortunately stepped on an air vent, which blew up the black robes to reveal white boxers with pink hearts. Again, Clary laughed and this time the struggling boggart turned its attention on her. Another _pop _and another form.

She felt Jace grab her wrist instinctively and pull her back before she even saw what had formed before them. "Stay back," he said in low voice, but Clary pushed him aside and beheld her father. Valentine had appeared in the room, dressed in an elegant suit, his hair washed and combed, and his grey eyes pinioned on her and Jace.

_He's not real_, Clary thought, but he looked awfully life like, and for a one moment, Clary thought she was back in New York, looking hopelessly up into his merciless face.

"Clarissa," said the boggart-Valentine, "Jonathan."

Jace shuddered at the sound of his name coming from Valentine, and reminded himself it wasn't real. His hand scrabbled uselessly for a stele while his other tried to hold Clary behind him. However, no sooner had Valentine spoken than Sirius flicked his wand, the familiar _pop_ was heard, and the boggart-Valentine was now dressed in a pink tutu, white tights, and soft ballerina slippers. He looked down at himself, outraged.

After the initial shock of seeing his father in a tutu, Jace smirked. He recalled, as if from a different life, words he'd spoken in outrage, _He's terrified I'll tell everyone he's always wanted to be a ballerina._ Without meaning to, a laugh escaped him, and then he doubled up laughing harder.

The boggart-Valentine took a furious step forward, but slid in the slippers and crashed to the floor. When he landed, there was a crack the boggart dissolved into dust. After a moment of heavy breathing on Jace's part he glanced around and noticed they were all watching him.

"It's just that-it was funny," he said defensively, trying to regain control of his laughter.

Clary, who rarely saw Jace laugh because something actually was funny felt a bit warmer herself. _Maybe there's something to this magic._

* * *

The rest of the day was spent cleaning the room and making it hospitable. By the time they were all sweaty and panting and covered in dust, Mrs. Weasley came in to tell them it was time to wash up and get ready for dinner. The group trudged out, heading for the bathroom and a change of clothes when Mrs. Weasley called, "Oh, Jace, Clary, Dumbledore will be coming shortly after dinner to have you Sorted, so dress smart."

Jace and Clary exchanged looks. Clary's hair was frayed and standing on end, her face covered in dirt, and her clothes were spotted with sweat stains; Jace's hair had lost its gleam and was dusted, and here was a stain on his pants from a book that had spit ink at him. They both felt completely drained, but the promise of Dumbledore's arrival, the arrival of the man who had planned their escape from Voldemort's grasp and future at his school, was enough to engender some nervousness in them both.

As they headed upstairs for the bedrooms, Clary said to everyone in general, "What's Dumbledore like?"

There was a pause while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tried to think of an answer that would do the question justice. "Well," said Hermione, "most people think he's the greatest wizard of the age."

"He's the only person Voldemort was ever afraid of," Harry said thoughtfully.

"He is a bit mad, though," Ron added.

Jace considered it all. "Is he dangerous?"

"Not to you," said Harry. "He was the one who brought you here in the first place."

Jace cast Clary a look and decided that he would be the first to greet Dumbledore. Clary, though, looked curious. "What does he look like?"

"Like a wizard," said Harry, smiling a little. "Like, whatever you think a proper wizard should look, he does." When Jace snorted, Harry said, "I mean it. He's got a huge beard, and he wears robes all the time and he's got a hat somewhere."

Clary shot Jace a very superior look. When they all looked at her curiously, she explained, "Jace used to make fun of me. He said I had no idea what magic and wizards and witches are really like. It's just nice knowing I was right."

Harry smiled at that. "What are you used to?" he asked Jace.

Jace and Clary shared a fleeting memory of Magnus and Jace said, "Different clothes."

In their rooms, Clary riffled through all her things, looking for a nice outfit, something _smart _as Mrs. Weasley had put it. Of the clothes she had packed in her hurry, however, she had not chosen anything even slightly formal. She looked dismally at the clothing spread out on the bed before her, and she felt like someone had hit her in the stomach. She missed home.

"You can borrow some of my things, if you like," said Hermione. "I've got some sweaters that you'll fit."

"Thanks," said Clary listlessly, and she pushed aside her shirts and pants and sat on the bed while Hermione fished around in her wardrobe for the right piece. It turned out to be a loose, grey and white striped cardigan.

Dressed in a pair of torn jeans and a borrowed sweater, Clary followed Hermione and Ginny back out and down to the kitchen. The boys were there, and Harry and Ron were once again talking Jace over the intricacies of Quidditch, and trying to encourage him to join the team. Jace was nodding listlessly until he saw Clary, and smiled.

"You look nice," he said, glancing her over. "Ready to meet the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore?"

Clary snickered. "If he's anything like the great and powerful high warlock of New York City, than I can do without it."

"I'm thinking less glitter," Jace agreed.

Harry and Ron, who had been listening to the conversation spoke at the first pause. "Who's the high warlock of New York City?" Ron asked.

"His name's Magnus Bane," supplied Clary, "and he's dating a friend of ours."

Ron and Harry shared a look. "Really?" Harry asked.

"Well, Magnus is a bit different than you guys," said Clary. "He's a Downworlder."

"And there's a difference?"

"Well, of course there is," said Hermione in her usual bossy voice. "Downworlders procure their powers from _demon _interaction, if you believe that sort of thing," she sniffed.

Jace fixed her with a look. "You don't?"

"I don't think we need to demonize our fellow magical folk," she said, and she had enough force of will to make Jace flush a little. "I mean, we study things like lycanthropy and vampirism and it's a disease, not a curse. Those demon things you fight sound like dementors to me."

Jace frowned. "What are dementors?"

Harry's face darkened. "They're monsters that feed off happiness and hope, so the more you're around them, the more miserable you get, and if they can, they suck out your soul."

Clary's fork clattered to the table. "How do you stop them without a seraph blade?"

"The Patronus charm," said Harry.

"A charm?" Jace looked skeptical.

"It's a projection of all your happy feelings and memories, and it creates a shield between you and the dementor, because the dementor can't feed off it," Hermione said swiftly.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Jace, shaking his head. "How does happiness fight it off?"

"Because the patronus can't feel sorrow or despair," Harry said simply. "The dementor can't make them suffer, so they can protect you."

"What does it look like?" Clary asked curiously. "It is a person with a weapon or…?"

"Every patronus is different for every person," Harry said. "Mine's a stag. Ron's is a terrier. And Hermione's is an otter. It will take the form of an animal that you share a deep affinity with."

Jace balked. _I don't share an affinity with an animal. I'm a shadowhunter. That's all I ever was._ But Clary was looking pleasantly surprised and Jace felt again that sense of worthlessness; that everything he happened to be unappealing to her and everything the wizards were was what she wanted.

"Can I cast one?" she asked.

"It takes loads of practice," said Hermione. "Harry's just really good at it. Ron and I didn't learn till last year."

"Can you teach us?" Clary asked at once.

Harry shrugged. "Sure. I think we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, so you'll get your wands then."

Clary glanced at Jace but saw his face looking carefully unreadable, and dropped the subject. "So, Dumbledore: you all say he's so great, but, why?"

Ginny suddenly snorted. "Well, _he_ says it's because he's on the chocolate frog cards."

"Excuse me?" Jace asked while everyone else roared with laughter.

"I collect them," said Ron. "I'll show you later."

"Right," said Jace, then said to Mrs. Weasley, "Dumbledore's coming over soon?"

"Should be here right after dinner," she said as she set dinner out. "So eat quick, you want to be on time for your Sorting."

"What's it like?" asked Clary, looking around at the others. "The Sorting?"

"It's just a hat," said Hermione calmly. "Should only take a few moments."

Jace felt the usual excitement that thrilled through him right before a hunt, and he curled his fingers into fists. "You're all in Gryffindor you said. If we are too, we get to live together?"

"Yep," said Ron, taking a large spoonful of potatoes and slapping them on his plate. "If you're there, you'll share a room with me, Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus. We're a pretty good lot. Neville is dead clumsy, but he's alright."

Jace stared down contemplatively at the plate before him and wondered how it would feel to live in a room with five other young wizards. It made him long for the privacy of his own room and the companionship of Alec. Already, his shared living space with Harry and Ron felt constricting, and at the thought of three more adolescent wizards, his stomach jumped a little.

"You'll fit in fine, Jace," said Mrs. Weasley, and she whisked his plate away once it was clean. "Everyone's nice at Hogwarts."

"Plus, you'll be on the Quidditch team," Harry added with his usual verve for the sport.

"Of course I will," Jace agreed, and watched while Clary finished her last bite. "But it's nice to know what's coming."

At that moment, as if he'd known what we being said, a knock came loud and clear on the door outside, echoing through the house. Everyone glanced up, but Mrs. Weasley spoke. "I believe that's Dumbledore."


	8. The Sorting

The Sorting

"_He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren' . . .well . . . all tha' respectable."_

_-Hagrid_

"You should have told us!" Isabelle said fiercely, glaring at her mother and father. "You should have mentioned the fact there were more Downworlders out there that we couldn't fight."

Alec leaned back against the wall of the Infirmary, watching his sister and mother standoff. They looked to him like two cats, hissing at each other in an ally. Isabelle was almost as tall as Maryse, and they both shared the same furious look. Personally, he doubted it would get them anywhere, but Isabelle was a loud, passionate individual, and if it suited her to yell and stomp her feet at her mother, she might as well do it. Alec, however, held on to Max and watched from the side as the two fought it out.

"It wasn't important," Maryse said stiffly. "The Clave doesn't deal with their problems, they have their own laws and governments."

"Not important? Clearly, they are, since you let them take Jace with out of here." Isabelle looked back at Alec for support but he glanced to side, extremely interested in the painting of the Angel. "And why weren't we told about them at least? Why didn't we know there was another organization that governs Downworlders? Why didn't we know about Voldemort?"

"Because we couldn't do anything about it," Maryse growled. "These things are out of our control and it didn't seem necessary to tell you about them if you can't change them."

"So, we were just supposed to be left in the dark for the rest of our lives?" Isabelle hissed. "You thought that was best?"

"It was!"

Isabelle lashed out like a snake. "Not for Jace it wasn't! He could be anywhere in world right now with anyone. Those people took him, but they didn't give you any clue to where he's going. You have no idea where Hogwarts is!"

"That's the point, Isabelle," Robert said gently. "We're supposed to be in the dark. That way, we're no use to any Dark warlocks that come."

"So we're just going to hide and let Jace deal with this all on his own?"

"He'll have help," said Maryse simply. "The Order will help him."

"You don't even know who they are," Isabelle snapped back. "I suppose you're not going to tell the Clave-"

"The Clave is aware of the situation already," Maryse shrugged. "An envoy was sent to inform them of Voldemort's rise, but little good it does them, since we're not involved in this war. We have Valentine to deal with."

"Well, according to the warlocks, he's not the problem," Isabelle said testily. "He's just a jumped up…something."

"No, Isabelle," said Maryse in a hard voice. "They might feel that way, but we don't. You've seen what Valentine is capable of, and you will not treat him as a laughing matter."

"They said Voldemort is the problem, not Valentine." Isabelle placed her hands on her hips and leveled her parents with a dark look. "Maybe we should be collaborating with them."

"No, Isabelle." Maryse took a few steps closer to her daughter and took her arm in a firm grip. "I'm your mother and I'm telling you what you're going to do. You _will not _go after Jace, not when we're at war with Valentine. At the end of this month, this family is heading to Alicante, and _you will _be coming with us. Is that understood?"

Isabelle jerked her arm free and stared blankly at her mother. "Mom, it's Jace."

"And you think I don't understand that?" Maryse gasped. "He's my _son_, Isabelle. I loved him since he was a little boy, and I just had to watch him be dragged off by people I don't know. Did you think I was happy with it?"

"You didn't do anything," said Isabelle emptily. "You just let him go."

Maryse felt the anger simmer out of her at the look on Isabelle's face: confusion and despair mingling together. "What else was there to do? We couldn't protect him here, and Voldemort would have come looking for him if we'd kept him. Sooner or later they would have come and killed us and taken him. He is _safest _with them."

"But he's my brother," Isabelle repeated.

Maryse let her go and lifted her chin instead, so she could look into her eyes levelly. "He'll come back to us, Isabelle, and if he doesn't by the time our war with Valentine is over, I promise you, we'll go looking for him ourselves."

Isabelle slumped, the anger going out of her, and took a step back toward her siblings. "Let's go get food-"

"Wait," said Robert, struggling to sit up properly. "I don't want you going out alone."

Here, Alec finally spoke. "We can't leave?"

"Haven't you been paying attention? Not only are we at war at Valentine, who knows you to be Jace's family, we're in the cross hairs of Voldemort, who wants Jace. You can't go wandering around alone."

"You can't be serious? Those people even said Voldemort wouldn't come looking for us because we're not enough of a challenge for him. He's not interested in us!" Alec came forward, pushing a furious Max behind him. "I think we can manage walking down the street in broad daylight."

"No," said Robert, his face set. "You're staying here."

"We're not in danger!" Alec said again, and this time, Max managed to break free and run at his parents.

"But how are we going to fight demons if we're trapped in here?"

"You're not," Robert said heavily. "This family is caught up in one too many wars, and I'm not risking the lives of any of my other children. You're staying in until we leave for Idris."

Isabelle's face, which had been resigned to Jace's fate, had morphed into something furious. She opened her mouth to argue once more, but Maryse held up her hand and pointed at the door to the Infirmary. "Just go. We're not discussing it further."

"Fine," Isabelle huffed, and spun on her heel, sweeping past her brother's dramatically. "Fine."

Max looked mutinous, and when he ran after Isabelle, it was with the hope that she might have some suggestion for them to go out. By the time the two had reached the stairs up to their rooms, Alec had caught up, his face dark with thought. Though Isabelle had meant to storm into her room and stay there, she had to pass by Jace's room, and her feet came to stop before it. It was desperately lonely, bare of all care, and oddly empty. Jace had always kept order, but before, his room had had energy, life, the evidence that a living person stayed there. Now, though all his things were still there, it was missing that one vital component, and it left the place with an empty feeling.

Isabelle swallowed loudly. "We're going to get him back. He's a Lightwood, a shadowhunter, one of us."

* * *

"What do you think happens if we don't get sorted?" Clary asked nervously, looking around the sitting room they were waiting in. It was old, and though it had been cleaned out of cursed objects, dust and cobwebs still clung to it mercilessly. "What's going to happen to us if we don't actually belong at Hogwarts?"

Jace rubbed his knuckles together in a fashion Clary had come to recognize as nervousness, but when he spoke, he sounded certain. "We'll probably just stay here where it's safe. I don't think they're going to let us go back."

"I wish they would." Clary stared ruefully down at her feet. "I miss my own room, and my friends, and painting. This place is weird, weirder than everything else I saw with you."

"You can say that again," said Jace as he heard the portrait of Mrs. Black begin screaming again, announcing Dumbledore's arrival.

"Here he comes," thought Clary, and she moved a little closer to the edge of her seat.

Jace was about to reply, but felt his mouth hang open. Albus Dumbledore was the most _wizardy_ wizard Jace had ever seen, he was the epitome of all the Mundane fantasies of magic, and the most laughable Jace had ever met, more laughable than even Magnus. He was tall, probably as tall as Valentine, but he was thin and bent a little. His hair and beard were white, and long enough to tuck into his belt, which he wore over robes a deepest purple, with high, buckled boots, and a traveling cloak of matching purple sporting a design of stars. He wore a pair of half-moon spectacles over his bright blue eyes, and it was these eyes that pierced Jace almost to his soul; for once, Jace looked away, unable to bear the inspection.

"Good evening," Albus Dumbledore said politely, "I trust you've already been told my name, but for courtesy's sake, I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the founder of this Order. I was also the one who engineered your escape." He bowed slightly to them, but they couldn't quiet find words to respond, so Dumbledore continued. "I am here, though I believe you already know, because it has been decided the safest place for you is Hogwarts, and to be a student at Hogwarts, you must first be Sorted into a house. Has one of the many students here told you the process?"

He paused and was obviously waiting for them to speak. Jace was now looking at Dumbledore like he was the most exotic animal he had ever seen, so Clary spoke. "A hat."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he came forward and took the seat opposite them. "The Sorting Hat." At these words he removed a battered, patched, frayed hate from his robes and held it up for their inspection. "Right now, he is asleep, but shortly, when I place him upon your heads, he will wake, look into your mind, and determine in which house you belong. The houses are-"

"We've heard," said Jace shortly, now studying the Hat.

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed at his rudeness. "Now, while at school, you're house will be as your family: you take classes with them, eat with them, and spend free time in the house common room. I know it will be difficult for you to adjust to the school setting, having grown up in a very different environment, but I think you might come to enjoy yourselves."

"Will we take class with students our own age?" Jace asked, worried that he would be reduced to a life of remedial classes. "We haven't been taking lessons in magic."

"No, you haven't," agreed Dumbledore, "but I have a theory about that. You see, your ability to work runes is very similar to our ability to use wands. Shadowhunters direct their power through a stele, we direct ours through a wand; the method is similar, and I believe you will be able to perform magic quite easily. Perhaps, better than some of your fellow students, since you don't require the use of verbal spells."

"We'll need a wand for that," observed Clary, "and spell books and things. How are we going to buy them?"

Dumbledore smiled genially. "I have been making arrangements for you."

"With who?" Jace asked sharply, and he thought again of Nathaniel upstairs, saying they depended entirely on the witches and wizards.

"Sirius Black has agreed to formally adopt you. He has sufficient funds and means to provide you with necessary equipment for school, and he seemed more than happy to take you two on." Dumbledore glanced around the room and his lips quirked in a small smile "I think he might even enjoy such a marvelous reason to spend his mother's inheritance."

"Sirius wants to adopt us?" Clary asked, and she felt a sharp pain. She realized that if Sirius adopted them, she would be officially removed from her previous life. She wouldn't return to Luke's house once her mother was awake, and she wouldn't grow up in New York City. She would be a Black witch. "Can't we just have a scholarship or something? Sirius doesn't _have _to adopt us."

"I believe he wants to," Dumbledore said softly, and his acute gaze was now focused on Clary. She felt like he could see everything she was thinking. "It will be easiest for you two if you have Sirius as your legal guardian; if the Ministry is infiltrated by Lord Voldemort's servants, and they seek a way to obtain you through legal means, it will be best if there is an adult aligned with our cause that will be able to make decisions for you."

"But Voldemort's servants can't actually do that?" Jace said, incredulous. "The government must have some way protecting itself?"

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore murmured, and his gaze dropped, "that is completely possible that Voldemort may infiltrate the Ministry, and we know already that he is searching for you. Voldemort is incredibly resourceful and incredibly intelligent; I trust he will go to any length to lay his hands on you."

"I'm not afraid of him," said Jace automatically, lifting his chin proudly and meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "I've fought plenty of rouge warlocks, and they're all the same."

"I would have thought," said Dumbledore, and here, his voice took on a rather cold quality, "given what you have seen of the survivors of the London Institute, you wouldn't be so quick to dismiss Voldemort's power. Or is that you simply believe you are more skilled than those poor souls?"

Jace flushed under the brightness of Dumbledore's look. "I don't think I'm better than them-"

"Then you think you possess skills they did not?"

_But I do,_ Jace wanted to say. _I know there's something different about me. Valentine said I was._ "I think I can fight better than them."

"Of course you can, Jace," said Dumbledore with a gentle chuckle, and coldness was replaced by a grandfatherly warmth. "I know you are unbelievably gifted, and I know you are far better trained than any other shadowhunter you age. You however, do not fully grasp the power of Lord Voldemort, and since I do, I would ask you trust my judgment."

"So you're just going to hide us then?" Jace demanded, feeling like a small child who had been reprimanded. "We're not going to fight? We're going to hide in your castle?"

"There is a difference, Jace, between hiding and guarding yourself," said Dumbledore calmly. "I am asking you to allow me to protect you and the people you love."

In Jace's mind he saw fleeting images of Alec, Isabelle, and Max, and he turned away before Dumbledore could guess what he was thinking.

"Regardless of how you feel, we have long since passed the point of turning back. You have come here, wisely, I might add, and are now about to begin your life anew at Hogwarts. This requires you to be Sorted, and so, I have come." Again, he proffered the hat. "Ms. Morgenstern? Mr. Herondale?"

"I'll go first," said Clary, her throat dry. She thought that of the two of them, she had much less to lose becoming a witch than Jace did becoming a wizard. It would be easier for him once she had gone through it. She eyed the Hat. "What do I do?"

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Nothing, at all, my dear. I will place the Hat on your head, and it will take a look round your skull and decide where you should be. Quite simple. So…?" He again held out the Hat and Clary felt her palms go sweaty.

"I've had some bad experiences with people in my head," said Clary stiltedly.

"I heard," Dumbledore murmured, and she thought she saw a smile gleaming through his beard. "But I assure you, Ms. Morgenstern, that the Hat will do nothing more than look. Just a peek."

_What other choice do you have? _Clary asked herself, and then bowed her head slightly. She felt something fall over her head, and suddenly, she was staring at the inside of the hat rim. She waited for that terrible feeling of someone prying her thoughts apart, but what she got instead was a ruffled voice.

"Most unusual, Dumbledore!" Clary gasped at the sound. "Most unusual indeed. I was _composing_, Dumbledore, making the new song for the Welcoming Feast, and you pull me out for this?"

"My sincerest apologies," Dumbledore demurred, "but I must insist for we're in a rather unusual situation, and these two must be Sorted."

"Two?" the Hat said, sounding dismayed. "Ridiculous, Dumbledore, absolutely ridiculous…" The Hat continued to mutter darkly to itself and Clary felt surprise and wonder mingling on her face, and she wondered where the Hat had come from, and how it could talk, Did it get hungry? Did it need sleep? After a moment, though, she heard a voice whisper in her ear, and all her thoughts fell silent.

"So, Clarissa Morgenstern, eh," the Hat said, and it wasn't a question. "A shadowhunter, that's different…a blind one too…" The Hat made a humming sound, like Luke did when he was thinking. "Creative, witty, bit of temper, not a bad mind…" Clary flushed a little. "A believer, a hoper, a _dreamer_; but loyal, oh, yes…loyal to the very end, if it may be." The Hat wriggled on her head and Clary wanted to slap it off. "Better be Gryffindor for this one, Dumbledore, god knows what'll happen if I stick her in Hufflepuff with that temper."

Dumbledore removed the Hat and Clary could see again; he smiled at her. "Well done, Ms. Morgenstern, well done. I'm sure Ms. Granger and Ms. Weasley will be pleased with such placement." Clary didn't know whether to smile or not, so she settled for a satisfied nod of the head. "Mr. Herondale?"

Jace eyed the Hat, having watched the entire Sorting of Clary, and been unimpressed. Unable to help himself, he glanced at Clary. "What's it like?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "It's just…a voice."

Jace bit his lip but Dumbledore was waiting, and what sort of example would he set if he was too cowardly to do something Clary had done? Especially if it was just a hat. "As long as it doesn't ruin my hair," he said with a sly smile at Clary.

"I'll have a word with him about it," Dumbledore said with equal verve, and placed the Hat on Jace's head.

"Another shadowhunter," the Hat said, this time his voice more sly and thoughtful. "_Oh_! You're not a very nice one, are you? Determined, cunning, nasty temper sometimes…could be Slytherin…" Jace panicked; he couldn't belong in the same house as Voldemort. "…but brave, loyal, empathetic…Merlin's beard, you give martyrdom a new meaning, don't you?" Jace felt the Hat shake with laughter. "Smart one, too. Ravenclaw? No, not with you attitude. You know, boy, you're the spitting image of Gryffindor." The last work was spoken aloud for Dumbledore and Clary, and then the Hat came off Jace's head and he was looking into Clary's smiling face.

"Excellent. I'm sure Sirius will be happy to know that both his new wards are in his old House." Dumbledore rummaged in his cloak and retrieved two envelops. "The other's letters will arrive by owl post tomorrow, but here are yours. I hope you forgive me, but I've taken the liberty of choosing your classes for the year. Gave me a bit of trouble with Professor Snape, but he understood the importance of it in the end." He looked between the two of them, holding their letters in minor confusion.

"It can be difficult, I know, to be in a new place with no friends or family, but I think you will find Hogwarts the most welcoming of any place, and the students more than entertaining. However, I must also impress upon you and danger you are now in." His voice became even and hard. "Lord Voldemort was interested enough to send the Lestranges after you, and he does not do that lightly. I suggest you mind yourselves, and, if at all possible, the rules we have set in effect around the castle. The risk to your own lives, let alone those of the people you love, it too great."

Jace looked ready to argue it, but Clary spoke over him before he could say more. "This adoption, is it permanent?"

"How do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, though Clary suspected he knew what she meant.

"I've left my family behind for this, and you're telling me I'm going to be legally adopted by Sirius, but…what about my mom? Is she still my mom?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes softened. "She will always be your mother, Clarissa, and I would not dream of telling you otherwise. However, given the current situation, it is best that you remain in our world, and under the care of Sirius Black. When all is said and done, I'm sure he will immediately relinquish any legal ownership he has over you."

"Are you sure he wants us?" Jace pressed. He was far more comfortable being just a guest than a permanent addition to the Black family. It left him a little autonomy, at least.

"Sirius and I have spoken at some length, and he assures me he would very much like to adopt you. Personally, I think he just wants to infuriate the portrait of his mother, which this certainly would. So I believe this is favorable for both parties involved."

_I'm here because of a painting, great, _Jace thought mulishly, and saw that Dumbledore was smiling rather widely, as if he'd heard. "And he's going to buy all our school things?"

"He is."

"And Harry's alright with this?" Clary piped up, looking curiously at the headmaster. "This is his godfather. Does he really want to share?"

"Sirius is speaking to Harry now, but I doubt he will have many objections," mused Dumbledore. "I would focus more on your studies. While I have no doubt you are both gifted, intelligent children, it will take concentration and determination to study at Hogwarts at such an advanced level. You will have help, of course," he said quickly, seeing Jace's shocked face, "but it will still require no small amount of study."

_Well, at least I can get out of Quidditch, _Jace thought, but the prospect of spending hours doing homework he didn't care for wasn't heartening. Still, he owed this man some small thanks for helping to protect his family. "We'll work on it."

"It's all I ask, Jace," said Dumbledore, and he smiled complacently. "For now, I think, you two may join your friends while Sirius and I discuss those boring adult things adults must discuss."

Jace blinked rapidly. "I wouldn't mind staying."

Though he didn't say no, the tone of his voice, though still friendly, had taken on a quality of finality that neither Clary nor Jace missed. "I'm sure you wouldn't."

Clary rose to her feet a bit unsteadily. "Come on, Jace. Thank you, again."

"Of course, my dear." They passed Dumbledore, who rose with them and made a small, polite bow. "Until the start of term. And do remember what I said about minding yourselves."

"We will," said Clary, as she passed through the door.

On the other side was Sirius, looking a bit nervous, but with an excited gleam in his eye. "So…how was it?"

Clary managed to work her face into a grateful a smile. "Did you really want to adopt us?"

"Just doing my part," he said, but his split into a grin. "You said yes?"

"Yeah," said Jace gruffly. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. Harry is determined you'll be playing for Gryffindor now that I'm buying your school things. Though, I suppose, if you weren't in our house-"

"We are," said Jace simply. "Both of us."

Sirius's smile widened. "Glad to hear it. We'll have to get you a broom then."

Jace managed a smile. "Fantastic," he said between his teeth.

Sirius clapped them both on the shoulders. "I'm glad you decided to stay. I promise, you won't regret it. Now head upstairs, everyone else is waiting to hear."

Jace rolled his eyes while Sirius walked away and Clary led him up to the first landing. He stopped there, staring up to the next landing and the assault of questions he would shortly be subjected to. _The last thing I need is to have those warlocks picking my thoughts apart. _He glanced away, aware of Clary watching him. "I'm gonna run up and check on Nathanial."

Clary's eyes widened just a little, but she nodded her head, and then, swiftly, brushed a kiss against his lips. It was the first kiss they really shared since coming to Grimmauld Place, and it took Jace by surprise. He tightened his grip on her waist before she could pull away, and he deepened the kiss. It was, as if, for the first time, he realized they weren't brother and sister, they could be together, and he wasn't going to let them go. Jace pressed Clary up against the wall, and she gasped, clutching at his shirt.

"What if someone sees?" Clary whispered, running her hands along the back of Jace's neck and into his hair.

"Worried about what the _girls _might say?" Jace asked against her neck.

"No, but you might be a bit more concerned about Harry and Ron," Clary responded wryly. "I think they'd tease you into next year."

"They're jealous," Jace said in an offhand way, and returned his lips to hers.

Clary felt his hands creep under the back of her shirt, and was about to tell him not to do it there in the hallway, when something warm and furry raced between her legs and she yelped.

"Crookshanks!" she cursed. "What is the matter with you?"

The cat stared at her reproachfully and flicked its bottle brush tail before meowing. Jace stared back resentfully and was about to throw something-anything-at it when he heard the humming voice of Mrs. Weasley. He jumped away just as she came around the corner. She beamed when she saw them.

"Sorting went well then?" she asked.

"Gryffindor for both of us," Clary said with forced cheerfulness.

"That's lovely," Mrs. Weasley said. "Why don't you go share the good news with the others? I'm sure they'll be waiting to hear." Clary nodded and Mrs. Weasley watched them until they took the next staircase up, away from the parlor and Dumbledore's conversation.

"That cat is not a cat," said Jace thoughtfully, looking for the now elusive Crookshanks.

Clary smiled sideways at him. "If it looks like a cat, and sounds like a cat-"

"It's a duck," Jace said darkly, searching for Crookshanks. "I don't trust them either."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Well, I for one am grateful he showed up when he did, or Mrs. Weasley would have walked in on us. So you can not trust him all you like, I'm giving him scraps from the table."

"Traitor," Jace murmured, but he returned her smile and took her hand. "I'm going to go see Nathanial. Don't let him keep me too long."

She winked at him. "Don't worry, I won't let him take advantage of you." Jace scowled playfully and she turned on her heel. "I'll be in one of the rooms. Don't take too long."

Jace watched Clary head down the hall, and then made his way up to the third floor. Nathanial's room was quiet, and he wondered vaguely if the other boy was asleep, but he knocked all the same, his thoughts restless. After a long pause, someone said, "Who is it?"

"It's me," said Jace, cracking the door just a little.

"The prodigal son returns," Nathanial sneered, but he shifted his weight to sit up. His bandages had been replaced and he looked like he'd taken a bath. There was a tray with an empty plate next to the bed, which held a lit candle and book. Someone was going to great lengths to care for him. "So, what's the news this time? Has Alicante been overrun by werewolves and warlocks, and your people slaughtered? And be quiet, my sister is sleeping." Nathanial jerked his head to the end of the bed where the small figure of Madeline was curled up.

Jace closed the door behind him and drew closer. "No news."

Nathanial stared at him a bit. "Then why are you here?"

"I-" _I came to tell you that you were right and I'm completely dependent on these people for my home, my safety, and the safety of the people I love. _"I don't always enjoy a constant stream of ridiculous stories about magic."

"Oh yeah?" Nathanial asked, and his eyes glittered. "Nothing to do with the arrival of Albus Dumbledore?" Jace glanced up but Nathanial shrugged. "When he finishes downstairs, he's going to come up and speak with me about finding me a proper home."

"You can't stay here?" Jace asked.

"He thinks I would benefit from having family structure." Nathanial laughed darkly. "I'm going to ask him to send my sister back."

"She's got no family," Jace said swiftly, remembering the little girl's demands to stay. "You're the only one."

"Look at me, idiot," Nathanial snapped, but he couldn't quite put venom in his voice. "I'm a disgrace to my family. The best I can do is get her away from me before the next full moon. She deserves better than-than _this_."

"This?"

"This life," Nathanial said raggedly, like he was in pain. "She's supposed to be a soldier, a shadowhunter, a defender of the helpless and the innocent; she's not some blustering idiot, playing with wands and spell books. You should know-"

"I was just adopted," said Jace evenly, and he kept his gaze fixed on Nathanial. "By Sirius Black."

"The warlock who owns this place?" Nathanial asked. "The one who found me?"

"Yeah," Jace said shortly. "I'm going to go to Hogwarts and learn to be a wizard while they sort out this war."

Nathanial watched Jace for a minute. "Did you really think they'd let you go back? Thought you could still be a shadowhunter?"

"I wanted them to…"

Nathanial leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. They sat in silence for a while, Nathanial thinking of his sister and Jace thinking of Sirius, the next in a long line of his guardians. _First Valentine, then the Lightwoods, now Sirius, I never really get to go home, do I?_ The only upside he saw this time was that he had Clary with him.

"Guess you and I are sort of in the same boat now, aren't we?" Nathanial wondered. "I'm a werewolf, you're a wizard. We're not exactly the shining stars of the Clave anymore."

"No," agreed Jace blankly, cracking his knuckles.

"At least we have each other," he said with a twisted smile. "Not going it alone."

Jace thought of Clary again, waiting for him downstairs, and then glanced sideways at the little girl clinging to her brother's bed. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. You might consider taking along a person who's willing to struggle through it with you."

Nathanial chose not to look at Madeline, but Jace's words stuck with him. "I might," he said after a while.


	9. The Family Black

The Family Black

_Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are._

_-Hagrid_

"Which house you think they're going to be in?" asked Ron, shoving am owl treat through to Pigwidgeon who tweeted happily and snapped it up.

"Gryffindor," said Harry promptly, as if this were a joke. "Come on, they're _shadowhunters_. Isn't their job to protect people?"

"It doesn't necessarily mean they're going to be on our house," said Hermione lightly, flipping through a page of her runes book. "I know this might be impossible for you to understand, but they might have _other _qualities besides fighting skills. I mean, look at Clary, she didn't even know she was a shadowhunter for the longest time. She's certainly not trained to protect people."

Harry shrugged. "Well, as long as Jace is in Gryffindor."

"Is that all you boys think about?" Hermione huffed. "You never wondered if maybe he wanted to do something else with his time? Maybe he has other interests?"

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked blankly. "Like, besides killing demons? You heard him today, he likes knives and weapons."

"I highly doubt Jace is a killing machine," she sighed, and buried her nose back in her book.

Ron looked to Harry. "You think we should talk to him?"

Harry thought back to the conversation they'd shared early in the morning. "I don't think Jace is really much of an open book, to be honest. Might as well wait till he talks to us."

"Knows how to handle friends, does he?" Ron snickered as the door opened.

"I've just been up to see Nathan." It was Ginny. She swept into the room and tossed herself down on Harry's bed so she could look across at Ron. "Told him Dumbledore was going to speak to him later tonight after he'd finished with Jace and Clary. He seemed okay with it."

"That's a change," observed Ron. "Whenever I go up, he just snarls at me-no pun intended."

Hermione slapped Ron with the book she was reading on the leg. "Ron, it's not funny."

"That's what I said!"

"Did he say why?" Harry asked, a bit more interested in Ginny than Ron and Hermione arguing.

"Mentioned his sister." Ginny sat still a moment before glancing back at Ron. "I think he wants Dumbledore to ship her back to the shadowhunters. Of course, she'll be in an uproar. I think Maddy was taking a liking to Tonks, to be honest; asked about her, anyway."

"I don't think Dumbledore wants to break up families either," said Hermione thoughtfully. "And Madeline even said there was no one left for her. I hope Nathan doesn't send her away."

"I'd hate it," said Ginny softly, "being left behind while my family runs off."

"No one is going to leave you," said Harry, and before he really knew what he'd done, he placed his hand on her forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. Ginny smiled wanly at him, and he smiled back carelessly before looking to Ron and Hermione. Ron was rubbing his leg where Hermione had hit him, but Hermione was peering closely at Harry's hand on Ginny's arm with a gleam in her eyes before looking away.

"I do hope he decides to stay with Remus," said Hermione wistfully. "It'll be good for him to be around someone who has the same experiences, plus, Remus will bring him round here, and we'll be able to see him. It must do him some good to have people his own age."

"Doesn't seem like it to me," Ron muttered.

"Well, maybe it's just Ginny he likes," said Hermione with a wink at Ginny, who grinned. Harry and Ron both shot a look at Hermione.

"Can't blame him," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Though, you'd think he might fare a little better with Jace and Clary. I mean, they are the same, aren't they?"

"Maybe he doesn't like them," said Ron in an undertone. "They are Valentine's Morgenstern's kids, and that's supposed to be a big deal to them, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Hermione. "He's probably just uncomfortable with the fact he's a _werewolf_ now. It's a huge life change."

"I wonder how he'll take it?" Ginny mused.

"Well, if someone here can brew the Wolf's Bane Potion, it should be fine. He'll just be a wolf one night of the month," Hermione said.

"_He'll just be a wolf_?" Ron repeated sarcastically. "Don't know what you go through once a month, but sprouting fur and tail is a little much, don't you think?"

"Hermione, didn't you have a tail-" Ginny began.

"Oh, stop!" she cried, but dissolved into giggles before she could muster a serious look.

"She had fur too," Harry laughed, smiling against his better judgment. "And big cat eyes."

"I'll never figure out how you brewed Polyjuice Potion in the school without getting caught." Ginny shook her head. "It's a feat even Fred and George couldn't have pulled off."

"In Myrtle's bathroom," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "No one goes in there."

"Must have been awful," Ginny said. "Having her whining at you all day."

"You think she'd leave us alone, don't you?" Ron said. "But she still follows Harry about, doesn't she, mate?"

"Don't remind me," Harry cringed. "Did I tell you about the time she came on me in the bath?"

"Cho's got competition, huh?" Ron chuckled, and Harry smirked a bit at that. "Well, I'm sure you'll find someone better. After all, you're the Chosen One now; the girls will be lining up at the doorstep, right?"

Harry flushed and suddenly felt extremely close to Ginny, who said, "Best be careful this year, Harry, I think a few of the girls in my year mean business. After everything that happened last year, a few came up to me on the train, asking why I was with Dean and not you." She shook her head. "You think they'd have something better to talk about?"

Harry flushed but was saved the embarrassment of responding by the arrival of Clary. "Hey," she said softly, seeing all her now-fellow Gryffindors about her.

"So," Ginny asked, turning a winning smile on her. "Which House?"

Clary nodded her head simply. "Gryffindor."

"Brilliant," said Harry. "Congratulations. And Jace?"

"Him too," said Clary.

"Even better. We'll definitely have to get him a broom then," said Harry.

Clary stared at Harry a moment before coming and closing the door softly behind her. She couldn't be more grateful that Harry and Ron had not apparently noticed she too was a shadowhunter. Then again, they spent more time around Jace, so maybe they just hadn't got around to asking her. She cringed at the idea. Harry had started talking to Ron and Ginny about Quidditch, but she cleared her throat a little and they glanced at her. "Dumbledore told us…about Sirius."

Harry's eyebrows rose up. He had been keeping it quiet, mainly for Jace and Clary's benefit. "Yeah, he told me too. I'm glad."

"You are?" Clary pressed. "I know he's your godfather and you're really close-"

"It doesn't really change," said Harry, holding up his hands. "I mean, he's still my godfather. He's just going to pay for your school things now."

"What?" Ron asked, looking between them.

"Sirius is going to adopt Jace and I," said Clary stiltedly and saw Ron's mouth fall open. "It-it's not really a _permanent_ thing; just a precaution in case something happens with Voldemort. Dumbledore thinks it'll be good to have a legal guardian who is on the same page as us."

Harry nodded thoughtlessly though Ron still looked surprised, and said, "Where's Jace?"

"I think he went up to visit with Nathanial," said Clary, and she came a little more into the room. As she drifted toward the bed where Hermione and Ron were sitting, Pigwidgeon hooted shrilly at her in greeting and she jumped. "Is that an owl?"

"It's just Pig," said Ron, flicking another treat at him. "He just likes showing off, is all. What else did Dumbledore have to say? Anything about the war against You-Know-Who?"

"Sorry," said Clary, not really in the mood to gossip with her new classmates. She drew her knees up to rest her chin on them, and said ruminatively, "Dumbledore chose our classes for us already. Are any of you…?" She held up the list and Hermione snatched it from her hands, sensing her despair.

"We'll all have Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and Advanced Charms, and Advanced Transfiguration, and probably Advanced Potions, too. I'm taking Advanced Ancient Runes, as well, and you'll be in Advanced Herbology. It's not too bad, but I'm surprised Dumbledore has put you in with us."

"He said that our runes work the same way your magic does, and it's all about force of mind or something," Clary said listlessly.

Hermione's eyebrows were raised. "He knows best, I suppose."

"She's just worried you'll be better than her without trying," said Ron in an offhand way and earned a very dark look from Hermione.

"I'm sure we won't be," said Clary with a faint smile between the two. "I don't think I'm much good at these things, and Jace doesn't want to be." She paused, thinking of Jace who had been the golden boy of the shadowhunter world. "I think he misses his daggers."

Harry smiled a little. "Dumbledore's got a big sword, if he's interested in borrowing one. The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"He'd probably like it," Clary said.

"Actually, I'm not really much for swords," said Jace, entering the room. He had managed to arrange his face into something welcoming and kind, but Clary saw a shadow in his eyes. "They're too big. Hard to move."

"I killed a basilisk with it once," said Harry casually.

Jace stared a second and then blinked. "You mount its head on the wall in your room?"

"Had a hard time carrying it, I was twelve at the time," Harry sighed, but Ron was laughing and even Hermione cracked a smile.

"Pity. It might have helped the décor here a little," Jace observed, but he caught Clary's eye and grinned. "I suppose you've heard about our placement?"

"Yep," said Harry at once, "and that means you're really going to have to play for Gryffindor now. What position do you think, Ron?"

Ron glanced sideways quickly, then said, "Maybe Chaser, or Beater."

"I was thinking Chaser too," said Harry with a gleam in his eyes. "The Keeper too stationary for him, and besides, I bet he's got great reflexes."

"I'm right here," said Jace a little testily. He was used to people discussing him recently, but this was a little much.

Harry glanced at him, grabbed a book on his bed, and threw it at him, saying, "Good point."

Jace's hand snapped out, caught the spine of the book, and then tossed it back at the garbage can behind him so swiftly neither Harry now Ron saw what happened. "Usually, when someone throws something at me, I throw something else back. Like a knife."

"Save it for off the field," said Harry, looking like his dreams were coming true. "Clary, you any good?"

"No," she said with a pained smile that didn't hide her relief. "Jace got the reflexes, I got the creativity." Jace scowled at her and she smiled wider. "Without runes I'm even more useless."

"Well, we can still make a team off this," Harry said carelessly, and went back to discussing it with Ron. Tactfully, no one brought up their Sorting again, and when Mrs. Weasley came to send them all to bed, because they were going into town the next day, it was with relief that Jace and Clary went.

Clary rolled over in her bed that night, thinking…_Is my name even Clarissa Fairchild? Is it Fray? Morgenstern? Or is it Black? Who am I?_ At the same time, though, a petal of relief unfurled in her chest. _I'm tired of secrets and lies, and that's all my life was before. I wasn't really a Fray, and I don't want to be a Morgenstern. I'm a Black now. I'm Clarissa Black._

She thought regretfully, as she dozed off, that is had a nice ring to it.

* * *

Grimmauld Place was a bit of a madhouse in the morning. The owls had arrived from Hogwarts, bearing book lists, and Mrs. Weasley was in her usual state of panic about procuring them in time. Mr. Weasley didn't improve matters when he told her he had to go into the office early to deal with a "nasty storm cloud" that had set up shop in his office and was drenching his paperwork. He suspected it was the work of any number of people he had recently pressed charges against. Tonks arrived, happy to help escort the children, but accidently knocked loose the curtain around Mrs. Black, who took the opportunity to voice her new opinion on Jace and Clary. Ron had forgotten he needed new robes until he tried his on and noticed at least three inches of bare leg, to which his mother had a few choice words. Remus came, but said he would be staying behind to keep an eye on Nathanial and Madeline, so he could not serve as a guard. In a last effort to follow the orders to protect Harry, Sirius called the other members of the Order but the best they could do was send two Ministry cars their way.

"Now, I don't want to waste too much time," Mrs. Weasley said while everyone ate breakfast. "It'll be straight to the bank, and then shopping, and then back here."

"But I want to see Fred and George's joke shop," complained Ginny loudly.

"Well…we'll stop in there-"

"And Jace needs a broomstick," added Harry.

"Well, I suppose-"

"You're playing for Gryffindor, are you?" asked Sirius over Mrs. Weasley. "Excellent. I used to play. Me and James. Any idea what you'll be playing?" Jace open his mouth to say no, but Harry beat him to it.

"Chaser or Beater, but I'm thinking he'll do best with Chaser." Sirius nodded. "He'll need a good broom. Maybe a Nimbus."

"We can do that," agreed Sirius, and then he glanced at Clary. "And what about you, Clary? What do you like to do?"

"She paints!" Tonks exclaimed, shooting Clary a bright look. "I saw all her supplies in her room."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Then I'll get you paints."

"You don't have to," said Clary quickly.

"Of course I don't," said Sirius with a mischievous grin. "But I'm going to."

Mrs. Weasley managed to make herself heard over the babble. "We're not doing anything if we're not ready to go soon. Everyone, finish up quick and be back by the door in ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, everyone was crushed into the small entrance hall, waiting anxiously for Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Order to appear. "I've never been to London," said Clary softly to Jace. "Is it like New York?"

Jace hadn't really traveled much since his childhood with Valentine, and it wasn't something he wanted to remember anyway. "Better architecture."

"I'd like that," said Clary just as Tonks came tumbling toward them.

"Right, so the plan is to stick together. No one thinks we're in any real danger, but we've got some of the Guard with us just in case. Harry, we're gonna have to keep our eyes on you." Harry grimaced but turned away and muttered something to Ron. "Jace, Clary, the same goes for you. We're bringing some cars from the Ministry and they should be here in about a minute, so we're going to wait on the street for them. Everyone out!"

A blast of summer air hit Clary's face and she took a moment to bask in the feeling. Though she'd only been in the house for two days, and darkness and the stale air were driving her mad. She got a glimpse of the street not completely covered in fog, and saw the alley where she had arrived. She closed her eyes a moment, just to put this place to her memory. It was important she remember each step of her journey so she could find her way home.

_But isn't this your home now?_ A small cruel voice whispered in her ear. _You're a Black now. This place is your house. This is where your legal guardian lives. This is where you'll go when you leave school. This is your home. _It didn't make Clary feel much better to think of this place instead of her home or Luke's bookstore.

The only solace Clary took was Jace's presence, which she clung to-literally. Her hand in his was tighter than usual, and he was about to ask her what was wrong, but at that moment, two dark cars pulled up before them and official looking men stepped out. They looked between the children and their guard and then opened the doors. Mrs. Weasley hurried them into the cars, saying, "Hurry now, hurry now, there's so much to buy."

Clary slid into a car with Jace and wished painfully that this car was taking her to New York, not London.

* * *

Remus knocked gently on the door on the third floor and listened to the sound of grumbling and groaning from within. After a minute, the knob turned and there stood Madeline. Her frown turned up a bit at the sight of Remus, and she pulled the door wider so he could enter. Nathanial was seated on the edge of his bed, testing his weight on his legs; when he saw Remus, he clicked his tongue irritably.

"What do you want?" he asked shortly, and Madeline shot him a dark look for being rude.

"I've just come to speak with you, see how you were." Remus offered his tired smile but Nathan didn't return it. "I know it can be difficult to adjust to new settings, especially after such a traumatic event, but-"

"And what do you propose to do about it?" Nathanial asked quickly, his eyes gleaming. "Got any spells hidden up your sleeve to raise the dead?"

Remus held his hands wide. "I'm afraid I don't, and even if I did, I would not offer them. That is no way to exist."

Nathanial hadn't expected that answer, and was at a loss for a moment. "So, why are you here?"

"I believe Dumbledore carried along an offer from me last night, and I've come to see how you feel about it." Remus eyed the boy closely. "Or, are you thinking you might like to seek out a werewolf pack of your own? I know a few that aren't necessarily allied with Voldemort, though, they may not remain that way for long…"

Nathanial sighed. He wanted so badly to be angry with this man, but Remus was too kind, too considerate, and too even tempered to ever rise to an insult. Besides, he wasn't even angry with Remus, he was just angry at the world. "Yeah, I thought about it."

"And what would you like to do?" Remus asked, coming more into the room and closing the door. Madeline drew a chair up to him and he smiled at her. "I could be very helpful to you, Nathanial. I know things about what will happen to you, and I'm more than willing to ask Snape to brew the Wolf's Bane potion for you."

"What about Madeline?" Nathanial pointed at his sister who was piling all the dirty dishes onto a tray to take downstairs. "What's going to happen to my sister?"

Remus glanced at the little girl who had carefully looked away. He cleared his throat, ready for an argument. "I know you want her to return to your people, but she has expressed a desire to remain with you. I think it is not unreasonable to keep her here, where she will be safe and looked after."

"Looked after by who?" Nathanial demanded.

"Mrs. Weasley will be here once the other children return to school, and she's very fond of the girl." Madeline smiled secretly at him. "And, when she comes of age, I'm sure we can discuss with Dumbledore her options of attending Hogwarts."

"She doesn't belong at Hogwarts!" Nathanial raged. "She belongs at an Institute, learning how to fight demons. She should be practicing her runes, not spells. Send her to Idris."

"She'll be no safer there," Remus said softly. "At least here, she'll have the protection of the Order, and be under the watch of Dumbledore. I take it you want what's best for your sister?"

Nathanial still looked unsure, and all he could think of was their heritage, and his parents, and what they would have wanted. _They died fighting these people; the last thing they want is their daughter growing up to be one. _He trembled against his will when an image passed through his mind of Bellatrix Lestrange standing over him, grinning like she was possessed. _She needs to learn to defend herself against these people._

"I want her to have the life I should have had," he said, and his sad eyes found his sister who looked sternly back at him. "I want her to be a true shadowhunter,"

"I don't want to go!" Madeline complained loudly, and she tugged on Remus' pant leg. "I want to stay with my brother, I don't care about going back. I want to stay here! There's no one for me to go back to anyway, what's the point? They'd just stick me in an orphanage."

"You don't belong here!" Nathanial snapped back at her.

"Yes, I do!" she howled back. "

"Please don't argue," said Remus calmly, and he placed a hand on Madeline's shoulder to stop her from bursting into tears. "I understand that you want the best for your sister, Nathanial, but is it possible that what's best for her isn't what you think? Perhaps it is better not to split a family any more than it already is?"

Nathanial stared at him with an accusing look. "It's not about family, it's about our duty…"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Do you really think that?"

Nathanial wanted to say yes, of course that's what he thought, but something in him recoiled at the detached analysis. He lowered his eyes. "She deserves better than my fate."

"Your fate isn't as horrible as it may seem," Remus said kindly, and he drew his chair a bit closer. "You still have a chance to prove yourself. Just because you are a werewolf doesn't mean your life has ended, and it doesn't mean you can't still fight the Dark."

"I've become a monster," Nathanial said evenly, and he stared at his hands. "Look at me."

He finally lifted his gaze up to Remus and there was desperation in his eyes. Remus felt a stab a sympathy; he knew how hard it was to wake up and find oneself suddenly forsaken by society. But even worse, he could never rejoin the people he'd once called friends and family, they would never take him back, not after what he'd become. "I am looking at you, Nathanial. You're not a monster, and you're not going to be left behind. Let me help you and Madeline."

Nathanial shuddered. There was still a part of him that rejected the help of a warlock, let alone a werewolf warlock, but…_Madeline needs someone to take care of her, protect her when you're sick. Give her that, at least. _"Alright," he said after a long silence and Madeline left Remus to hold onto her brother's hand.

* * *

"I think I'm actually going crazy," said Isabelle, bending her arm back, a knife in her hand. "I haven't left this house in days, I've got you two for company, and all I do is train. I'm beginning to think Jace got off lucky."

"Bet he doesn't feel the same way," Alec said darkly.

"Bet he does," Isabelle replied with equal verve, and then launched the blade out of her hand and into the ceiling above her bed. It lodged itself two inches deep in the ceiling and quivered there, catching the light from the setting sun. "I can't believe we're not allowed to leave. I get that there's a war going on, and I get Valentine is out there somewhere, and I get he's Jace's step-dad thing, but _why _is that stopping us from leaving?"

"You heard Dad." Alec was playing with his phone, flicking the case open and closed, thinking about texting Magnus. "We're in the middle of two wars. Doesn't want to risk our lives anymore."

"We were always in a war," Isabelle said tiredly. "How had it changed?"

"I guess the Valentine-Voldemort combo outranks just demons," Alec shrugged, and began to type in Magnus's number. But what would he say? Sorry I haven't been over in while, my parents won't let me leave? _Real mature. I'm sure he'll appreciate it._

"I don't even understand Voldemort," said Max from his place on the floor. He'd been reading and half listening to his siblings. "What exactly did he do?"

Isabelle and Alec shared a look. The report had finally reached them of the London Institute, and it hadn't been good. Hundreds of people were dead, men, women, and children. They had found corpses of werewolves, but they weren't the usual werewolves, they looked like the stories Mundanes told their children: humans who sprouted fur and fangs, and whose bodies were bent for a night into grotesque shapes. There had been further damage done by spell work, but it wasn't warlock magic either: there had been no sign of demon powers. What had been most disturbing, at least to the shadowhunters, was that many who had died showed no marks or struggle. Their bodies had been inspected, but the findings were inconclusive; they looked like they had simply fallen where they were standing, almost like they were asleep. But not quite.

"No one really knows," said Alec after a moment, "but the Clave thinks he's dangerous, so we'll have to trust them."

_Because trusting them got us so far, _Isabelle wanted to snap, but managed to stop herself by taking another dagger and lodging it into the wall across from her bed. "Plus, we know he's looking for Jace, so we need to do our best to help Jace, don't we?"

Max didn't seem satisfied by their answers, but why should he have been? It wasn't like they were satisfied with the answers either. Looking over to Alec for some help with her brother, Isabelle said, "Maybe Alec and I can take you to the training room and help you practice your knife throwing? I know you wish you had Jace's aim but-"

"I don't want to," said Max dejectedly.

"We can help you study runes?" Alec offered next.

"I don't want to do that either," Max sniffed.

"Hungry?" Isabelle asked, and that earned her a look of horror from both brothers. "Oh, shut up," she added."

Alec sank onto the floor beside his brother. "Well, what do you want to do? Sit here all night and read?"

"No!" Max exclaimed, looking outraged his brother might have assumed anything so ridiculous. "I want-I want…" He bit his lip, thinking hard. "I want to go outside, and go to that restaurant you always go to."

"Taki's?" Isabelle asked. "Why? The food is good but it's not anything Mom can't make."

"I want to go out," Max said again, looking seriously at each of his siblings. "I don't want to wait here anymore while Jace is out there fighting."

"Well, it's not like he'll be fighting at Taki's," said Alec reasonably, but he knew his brother was just getting anxious to leave. Having to wait for something to happen was worse than being in the middle of that something. Taking a little pity on his brother, and a little on himself, he thought as he sent a text to Magnus, Alec said, "I know Mom and Dad said we're not allowed to leave the Institute, but maybe tonight, once everyone is settled in, we can sneak out."

Isabelle was shocked. Alec, breaking the rules? "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Isabelle demanded.

Alec smiled ruefully. "I'm eighteen. I'm _actually _an adult. How do you think I feel being stuck in here?"

"Alec the rebel," laughed Isabelle, sitting up and looking excited. "If we do this, Max, you have to do _whatever _we say. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Max at once, standing up, his eyes sparkling.

"No matter what?" Alec pressed.

"Anything," he said, smiling broadly.

"Well, alright then, but only because we're as done with this place as you are," Isabelle said, and then winked at him.

Max looked down at his clothes: pajamas. "I'll go change," he called over his shoulder as he sped from the room and dumped his book on the floor.

"You really shouldn't encourage him," Isabelle said, but she was smiling, and Alec shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"Magnus is going to meet us," he said. "I really want to know more about this school and Voldemort. Especially after what happened in London."

Isabelle nodded. "You think he can help us?"

"I don't know if he necessarily wants to," said Alec, thinking of the warlock's face. "He didn't seem to keen on Voldemort, even less than Valentine."

"Don't let Mom and Dad hear you saying that," said Isabelle darkly as Alec left her room.

Three hours later, once Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood had retired to their room and office respectively, Isabelle, Alec, and Max, crept through the eerily silent halls of the Institute toward the elevator. It creaked as it took them down to the cathedral and the gates groaned when Isabelle shouldered them open. Like shadows, they flitted through pews and to the double doors that let them out into the world.

A cool breeze lifted the hair off Isabelle's neck and she tossed her head back and let a laugh out. Max giggled and took off at a run for the gates. "Max!"Alec cried, and raced after him, Isabelle still laughing as they went. The three shot through the gate and turned down the street, looking for a cab.

They were too busy, waving down different drivers, to notice the pair of blue eyes glittering in a whiskered face, lips curled back in a smile, that were tracing their every movement.


	10. Robes, Wands, and Owls

Robes, Wands, and Owls

_Mum, do you honestly think You-Know-Who is going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?_

_-Ron Weasley_

"The Leaky Calderon," Harry proclaimed as the Ministry cars pulled to a gentle stop. "It's how we'll get to Diagon Alley."

Jace looked out the window and saw a sorry looking pub, and was reminded of Taki's pitched roof and low ceiling. "The entrance to the wizard shopping district is through a pub? How…_quaint_."

"It's not too bad," said Harry, pointedly ignoring the sarcasm in Jace's voice. After all, he told himself again, the other boy's life had just been turned upside down. "I stayed here once for a few weeks when I was thirteen. They make pretty good food."

"It looks nice," said Clary before Jace could respond, and then pushed him out the door.

The group piled onto the street, and then squeezed through the pub door. It was dark inside, the room lit by candles and a large hearth. Behind the bar, an older gentleman was polishing a glass; when he noticed Harry, he made an awkward bowing gesturing and smiled. Harry gave him an encouraging smile and didn't look up again. Clary noticed a few people in the bar besides them, but they were mostly bent over their drinks. On the walls, she saw flyers posted with the people in the pictures moving, but Mrs. Weasley hurried them through before she could get a closer look. They soon found themselves in a small walled court yard with trash cans. Jace crossed his arms, annoyed.

_Why can these people not ever make space proportional to the amount of people who need it?_ he thought, looking around at the others. _Why do they love shoving everyone into tiny little corners? I'm surprised we don't have to step in trash cans and be shipped._

"Here we are!" said Mrs. Weasley, and Jace heard Clary gasp beside him.

He followed her gaze and watched as the brick wall before him began to morph and change until a large archway stood before him, giving way to a long, winding, cobbled street. On either side of him he could see shop fronts, some boarded up, others glowing faintly with light. The fog of the London streets reached here, too, and it left the place looking distinctly diminished, though Jace was sure it would have been marvelous at its height.

"Gringotts first, then we'll all split up and buy our school things, and meet back at Fred and George's," said Mrs. Weasley briskly, setting off at a good pace. "Sirius, I want you to keep an eye on Harry and Jace and Clary."

All four of them looked up in indignation, but Mrs. Weasley had already turned away, and was leading them through the streets. Jace caught up to Harry and said, "What's Gringotts?"

"Wizard back," Harry said, feeling like it was his first time here with Hagrid, but that the roles had been reversed. "You'll see it in a moment."

They came around a corner and Clary and Jace were given their first view Diagon Alley proper. There were shops lining the streets, and Clary was reminded of a Charles Dickens novel. People dressed in robes and cloaks made their way up the street, pausing here and there. As they went, Clary noticed that many of the shoppers were moving with their heads bowed and spoke in low voices. Their glances were furtive, and the parents kept their children close by. A few, upon noticing Harry, glanced up in surprise and pointed him out.

"Can we get inside?" Harry grumbled, feeling the eyes of more and more people on him.

Sirius shot him an apologetic look, and the group hurried toward the towering, white building that was Gringotts. As they passed through the doors, Jace's eyes locked on the goblins, and he wanted to ask if it was safe, having them there, but Clary nudged him sharply in the back as they approached the second set of doors and the words inscribed.

_Those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn._ Clary thought of her father, stealing the Mortal Instruments, and wondered if he would pay dearly. _I hope so, _she thought to herself.

They entered into a cavernous room, lined with counters and more goblins. Though this seemed run-of-the-mill to the wizards, Jace and Clary both seemed a bit apprehensive as they approached a free goblin. He stared shrewdly at them while Sirius spoke.

"I'd like to visit my vault, 711, and vault 687, please."

Slowly, the goblin's eyes moved away from Clary and Jace's faces. "And you have your key, sir?"

Sirius smiled his usual roguish grin before removing a very battered, slightly bent key. The goblin too his key, inspected it, and shrugged, handing it back, before taking Harry's as well. After a moment, he said, "That seems in order. I'll have someone escort you." He called over his shoulder for another goblin, who led them away from the hall.

"Where are we being escorted _to_ exactly?" Jace asked as they left the hall for the dark, cave-live tunnels.

"Vaults," said Harry, waiting while a cart came zooming out of the gloom to meet them. "They're below London, miles beneath the Underground. If you like roller coasters, this might be fun," he added as an afterthought, and they all piled in.

Jace had half a mind to ask what Harry meant, but at that moment, the cart lurched to life, and they were suddenly speeding down through the chilly darkness. Clary wanted to scream as they took the first hair-pin turn and she was thrown against Jace, but Harry and Sirius were smiling, and she didn't want to seem silly. Besides, Jace slipped his hand around her waist at that moment and squeezed gently; she blushed slightly and saw him smiling smugly to himself. At one point, she felt a gush of cold air and looked down only to see a great blackness; she lurched back in her seat.

"What's down there?" she asked in a small voice, taking Jace's hand.

"More vaults," said Sirius in an offhand way. "Possibly a dragon or two."

"Dragons?" Jace managed to say over the loud wind, and Sirius winked.

Quite suddenly, they came a halt. "Vault 687, sir," said the goblin, and held his hand for the key.

Jace and Clary reminded behind in the cart while Harry got out, but it was hard to miss the piles of gold, silver, and bronze that were revealed behind the large, stone door. Harry quickly swept some gold into his money bag and hurried back to their cart, looking a little awkwardly at Jace and Clary. They set off again, going deeper and faster, and Clary wanted very badly to be back on the street in Diagon Alley. They took another sharp turn, sped over a gaping ravine, and came to a stop before a precariously perched vault.

"Vault 711, sir," said the goblin in its high voice, and Sirius pulled himself out.

Jace was a little curious to see exactly what Dumbledore had meant by Sirius having _sufficient means _to pay for their school things. After all, he had grown up in a relatively wealthy shadowhunter family. He had never wanted for anything that the Lightwoods wouldn't have bought him. When the vault was opened, however, Jace felt slightly flabbergasted. Harry's vault had been full of gold, but this seemed ridiculously out of proportion. He saw mostly gold, a little silver, and barely any bronze; a number of strange artifacts like statues and things bearing the Black family crest; a pile of ancient looking texts; and a number of other things, clearly valuable, but very small. Sirius inspected it.

"Moved all my mother's things in to my vault, I see," he said casually.

"As you requested, sir," the goblin replied.

"And which of it is hers?" Sirius asked next.

"We added her things to the right side, however, there was already quite a large number of gold-"

But Sirius wasn't listening. With a purposeful look at Harry, Jace, and Clary, he filled a bag with as much gold as he could fit from the right side. "Excellent. I'm sure Mother dearest will appreciate my uses of her inheritance." With that, he hopped back in the cart, and they set off again.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves back out on the street with the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley said, "Why don't you all go and get fitted for new robes. I'll take Ginny to look for more potion ingredients. We can all meet at Flourish and Blotts, get school books, and then go visit Fred and George."

"This way," said Harry to Clary and Jace, as Mrs. Weasley set off with Ginny.

They made their way through the crowds, Clary trying to remember the way she'd come, but was too distracted by the enormous amount of magical paraphernalia surrounding her; she had expected Jace to be a little less impressed, but he looked just as stunned as she was. She saw his eyes move to a store front with owls perched before it; he looked momentarily lost.

Before she could say anything, though, Sirius pulled the two of them over to a store called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and ushered them in. Clary glanced around the store and saw a number of outfits she would never have worn, but must have been popular because they were on display. Everything seemed to favor dark blue, purple, green, and red, and she wondered vaguely if this was where Magnus came to get some of his more obnoxious items. She wandered over to a display of a mauve dress with rhinestones set in the pattern of stars, and was about to touch the fabric when someone walked into her.

"Watch it," snapped the person and Clary spun around to face him.

It was a young man, possibly her age. He was taller than her, rather thin, with pale blond hair, a pointed chin, and grey eyes. He sneered at her and she narrowed her eyes. "Watch it, yourself. Or is walking and keeping your eyes open at the same time too difficult?"

His mouth opened slightly and his cheeks flushed pink. "Who do you think you are?"

"_Not _a rude asshat," Clary snapped back, smirking.

The boy reached for something in his pocket just as Jace came around the corner. "Clary, what are you-" He broke off when he saw the boy rummaging for his wand. Though he didn't have a knife, it was little deterrent. "Talk about dyed blond hair wannabes."

The other boy flicked out his wand, eyes flashing, but Jace's hand moved in a blur, and a second later, he had grabbed the boy's wrist and jerked it up. "Let go!" the boy snapped.

"Not very polite," said Jace, keeping a firm grip. He turned to Clary. "You know, I was wrong when I called Simon the Rat King; clearly this young man can take that title."

"I said, let me go, before I-"

"Before you what?" Jace said sharply. "Point your stick in my face some more? I am terrified," he said caustically.

"Let him go," hissed a voice, and Jace looked up to see a woman similar in appearance to the boy, standing before him, eyes narrowed, wand pointed at Clary. "_Now_."

Jace threw the boy with unnecessary force away from him, and he stumbled back into a rack of robes. The boy glared, flushing pink. "Someone ought to teach you some manners," he said in a low voice.

"Someone ought to teach you respect," Jace replied, and glanced at the woman. "I take it your mother couldn't be bothered."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way," the other boy said, and took a step toward Jace. Jace tensed, ready to actually fight, but at that moment, Sirius and Harry came around the corner.

"Jace, Clary," said Sirius, coming over to them, "what are you doing-" He broke off at the sight of the woman and her son, then said, in an oddly cheery voice, "Well, if it isn't my sweet cousin, Narcissa. What a pleasure."

"Sirius." Her face was set hard.

_Cousin? _Jace thought, immediately stepping back. _Shit._

Sirius placed a hand on Clary and Jace's shoulders and pushed them back. He was still smiling that tight smile, and Jace glanced at Harry. He was surprised to see Harry and the blond boy glaring at each other.

"I see you've met my new wards," he said brightly, patting both Clary and Jace on the back. "Formally adopted them into the Black family. Think my mother would be proud."

The woman, Narcissa, eyed the two unkindly. "Where did you find these little rats?"

Clary hissed, but Sirius applied gentle pressure to her shoulder before stepping before them both. His hands were in his pockets and he looked relaxed, casual, but there was something about his eyes that seemed slightly off kilter. "Well, I'm surprised you don't recognize them. After all, it was your sister, lovely Bellatrix, who went to find them in the first place." He waited while recognition flitted across her face. "New York City."

This time, when she looked at Jace and Clary, her face was twisted with disgust. "You brought filthy, little shadowhunters here? You really have no honor, do you? You're a disgrace to the family name."

"I think the family name was disgraced long before I came along," he said smugly and glanced the boy. "We obviously have very different opinions on what the term _disgrace_ means," said Sirius. "And, speaking of disgraces, how's Lucius?"

The woman sucked in her breath and the boy's lips curled back in a silent snarl. "You dare-"

"-Point out my cousin married a Death Eater in public in broad daylight? I know, it sickens me too, but I'm just worried about him. Locked up in Azkaban."

"The fortress of Azkaban is nothing without the dementors."

"You're right, I'm sure Lucius prefers it there, since I'm guessing your lot isn't too happy with him right now, are they?" Sirius chuckled. "How exactly did Voldemort take it when one of his lieutenants was outwitted by a bunch of teenagers?"

"You speak his name?" gasped Narcissa, and her wand shaking in her hand.

"Not against the law yet," Sirius said coolly, and he flicked his wand out. "Proudest moment of the Malfoy family, was it?"

"Careful, Sirius," said Narcissa calmly, but she lowered her wand slowly. She drew a step closer. "You think you're so safe, vindicated by the Ministry? The Dark Lord has returned, and he will hunt down those traitors of the blood. And when he finds you, and-" she paused, sneering at Harry, Jace and Clary "-the pets you keep, you will live to regret it."

Sirius lifted his wand so it was level with her heart. "I'm looking forward to that day, Narcissa."

She seemed to want to say something, but words failed her. In her anger, she grabbed her son by the arm and dragged him away, saying, "We'll go somewhere else, Draco. Somewhere that doesn't cater to undesirable individuals."

Sirius and Harry were very still, watching as they left. After a moment, Jace said, "Cousin, huh? I suppose family reunions must be fun at your house?"

For a moment, Sirius was silent, but then his face relaxed into his usual grin. "About as fun as a Morgenstern one."

"Who are they?" Clary asked as they headed back to the center of the shop and Madam Malkin.

"My cousin, Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco. Lucius, her husband is a Death Eater." When Clary still looked confused, he said, "A wizard who serves Lord Voldemort. He's imprisoned now in Azkaban, thanks to Harry's stunt last year at the Ministry, but it doesn't change much."

"Who's Bellatrix?" Clary wondered.

Sirius grimaced. "She's my cousin, Naricissa's sister. She and her husband were sent by Lord Voldemort to apprehend you; she's responsible for the attack on the London Institute."

Clary and Jace shared a dark look, and Jace said, "You're _related_ to them?" Jace had never thought to find someone in the wizarding world he could possibly identify with, but the idea that Sirius, witty, talented, generous, Sirius was related to Death Eaters made him feel slightly better about his own childhood with Valentine.

"All the pure blood families are related," he said in an offhand way as they approached the counter. "It's a little different nowadays, but there are some who still want to keep magic in the old families."

"And what'll it be?" asked the witch behind the counter before Clary or Jace could ask more questions.

"I need some hemming done," said Harry ruefully.

"These two needs Hogwarts uniforms," said Sirius, pushing them both forward.

Madam Malkin seemed a little shocked by two teenagers in need of complete sets of robes, but waved them after her, saying to Harry, "I'll have someone see to your robes; you're friends are in the back with theirs."

Clary was a little curious as to what wizards in training wore, compared to shadowhunters. Jace looked nervously at the colorful robes and cloaks, but he needn't have worried. As it turned out, Hogwarts students dressed like boarding school children. The boys wore black trousers with white, buttoned shirts, blazers and sweaters with their house emblem, ties in the house color, and a cloak for outdoor wear. Clary thought Jace looked rather charming in black, red, and gold, and smiled when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He cringed a little because there wasn't much mobility in trousers and buttoned shirts, but kept his face impassive. Clary found that the girls wore similar uniforms: white buttoned shirts, pleated skirts, blazers with the school emblem, high grey socks, ties, and cloaks. Clary stared at herself.

"I never had to wear a uniform to school," she said absently, twisting the skirt in her fingers.

"This is excellent," said Jace, oddly enthusiastically. "I've always had this school girl fetish."

"Jace!" she cried, but Harry and Ron's laughter drown her out.

He smiled at her and she felt the heat simmer out of her cheeks, while Madam Malkin fitted her and pinned her. She slipped the robe over her head, saying, "That's you done, dear."

Clary jumped off the stool she had been standing on and watched while the woman flicked her wand and a few stray strings fell to the floor and were swiftly swept up by a broom. She brought them all back to the front of the store and placed the outfits in boxes and wrapped them in brown paper while Sirius paid.

"Where to next?" Jace asked around the boxes of clothes he had offered to carry.

"Olivanders for you two," said Sirius. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, why don't you head over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. We'll meet you there."

Jace and Clary watched the others go, wishing just a little they could stay with the group, but Sirius turned them away toward another store. Its front was bare of almost everything except for a single wand, lying on a red cushion. A bell above the door chimed as they entered, and Clary felt as if she had just stepped into a very private, very quiet library. Jace's eyes darted around, and he felt the hair on his neck and arms stand on end.

"Sirius Black," said a soft voice. "It's been too long. I was quite pleased to hear of your exoneration from the Ministry."

Jace and Clary both saw a smaller man coming forward. As he drew level with them, they saw that his eyes were large, and grey, like empty mirrors. He was staring at Sirius at the moment, but slowly, his gaze turned on them. Jace blinked against his will even though Olivander didn't.

"And who are these two…?" He came a little closer, his large eyes moving from Clary to Jace, searching their faces.

"My wards," he said. "This is Clarissa Morgenstern and Jace Lightwood."

He finally blinked, but it did nothing for his now soft, creeping voice. "Morgenstern? If my memory serves me right, that was the name of a shadowhunter fellow."

"Your memory does serve you. This is his daughter and step son, however, the current situation with Dark wizards has forced us to remove them from their home and enroll them at Hogwarts." Sirius watched Olivander continue to stare at the two shadowhunters. "Dumbledore believes they can do magic, and so they need wands."

"I've never heard of shadowhunters doing magic before," said Olivander, and he turned away, heading for one of the shelves on the side of the room. "I suppose it's _possible_. Wizardkind can channel their magic through most anything, and I've heard shadowhunters do that with their knives. I must admit, though, it will be difficult…"

"Nothing you're not up for, I'm sure," rejoined Sirius, and he gave Clary a small nudge forward. "Ms. Morgenstern first."

Olivander stared at her and smiled slowly. "Of course. Which is your wand arm?"

"My-my what?" She looked to Sirius who winked. "I'm right handed."

Olivander flicked his wand and a measuring tape zoomed through the air to land by her wrist and begin measuring. "Every Olivander wand has a core of a powerful magical creature: unicorn tail hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. We use a variety of wood. The result, you can imagine, is that no two wands are exactly the same." He snapped his fingers and the measuring tape fell to the floor. "Try this, mahogany and dragon heart string, ten and quarter inches."

Clary took the wand but nothing happened. She stared from the wand to Olivander who snatched it back. "No, no, no. This one. Yew, unicorn tail hair, nine and half." This wand too didn't live up to expectations. The next one didn't, or the next. Clary was beginning to check nervously with Sirius, who was watching, and Olivander, who seemed oddly pleased.

"This one," he said suddenly, producing another wand from another shelf. "Cherry. Phoenix tail feather. Eleven and three quarters inches long. Rather sturdy, bit stubborn, if you ask me."

Jace was about to laugh when Clary took the wand and felt a rush of warmth up her hand and warm. From the tip came a shower of golden sparks that fell to the floor and vanished. Clary watched them, flabbergasted, and then looked up at Jace. For a minute, they both stared at each other, then, she promptly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Told you shadowhunters did magic."

Jace was still gaping. A small part of him had been skeptical, and had hoped that it wouldn't work. "That's not…" But he was tired of saying things weren't possible.

"A wonderful choice," said Olivander, slipping the wand back into the box. "I knew we'd get there in time. And you boy?" He had already turned his attention to Jace and was looking him over. "Your wand arm?"

"I'm left handed," he said uncertainly.

"Well, don't just sit there. If it takes half as long as it did Ms. Morgenstern, we'll be here all night."

Jace was dragged forward and the measuring process began again. Olivander kept casting quick glances at him, like he couldn't quite understand what he was looking at, but after a while, he must have worked out what Jace was, because he came back with a few boxes.

"Try this one: Maple, phoenix feather, ten inches, unbendable." Jace took it, recalling what his father had said of being strong and resilient. However, Olivander snapped the wand from his hand before he'd so much as twitched it. "No, not good at all. This: willow, dragon heart string…"

It seemed that, if anything, Jace was harder to place than Clary. Every wand Olivander chose seemed completely useless, and was tossed aside for something else. Jace suspected-or hoped-that he would be impossible to place with a wand, and he could simple skip the school altogether. He wondered, as he took wand after wand, what Dumbledore would say when it got back to him that Jace simply couldn't use a wand. He wondered if the old man would be irritated. He might like that. He saw once, though, that Clary was watching with as much apprehension as he felt, and realized she wanted him to have a wand. He grimaced at the prospect of seeing Clary off to the school, but him remaining behind.

"Now, how about this? Birch, unicorn tail hair, twelve and half inches, flexible." Jace took it absently, but almost as soon as he had, he felt his fingertips thrum with life. He glanced down, surprised to see his wand was vibrating before producing a single rose from its tip.

"Unicorn hair?" Jace asked with disdain while Mr. Olivander took the wand and carefully replaced it, wrapping it and Clary's in brown paper.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Lightwood," he said simply. "Mr. Black, I assume you'll be squaring their account?" Sirius paid and Mr. Olivander bowed them from his shop.

Back out in the street, Clary took a deep breath and tried to push back the feeling of eyes on her she'd felt while in the wand shop. Sirius led the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting. They had found Jace a broom, a Nimbus model, and though Jace wished he wouldn't, Sirius placed an order for one to be delivered. The only solace Jace could take was that if he didn't work out for the team, the broom could be refunded. They next stopped by an apothecary, and Hermione, Jace, and Clary were supplied with necessary potion ingredients, while Harry and Ron looked on.

"Aren't you taking potions?" Clary asked as they left.

"Snape only lets Outstanding OWL students in his Advanced Potions," said Harry, a bit glumly.

"It must be difficult to fill a class if he only takes outstanding owls," Jace repeated, eyebrows raised..

"OWLs stand for Ordinary Wizarding Levels. They're examinations we take."

"I suppose that makes _so_ much more sense than teaching owls how to do magic," Jace muttered and Clary giggled softly.

They came finally to Flourish and Blotts, where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were waiting outside the store. "Oh, good," she said, eyeing them all closely. "You were taking a while, weren't you?"

"Hard to find a wand for Jace and Clary," Sirius said simply, and they entered.

Flourish and Blots was filled with students and noise. Jace and Clary had to keep close by not to lose sight of their group, and hung back while someone got their books. Clary took a quick glance at the glossy covers and felt a thrill race through her: she was going to learn magic. She noticed that Jace was still looking outside, across the street. As they left, Clary said loudly, "What's that store?" and she pointed to the place Jace had been looking.

"Eeylops Owl Emporium," supplied Sirius. "We use owl post in the wizarding world, so everyone wants an owl." He glanced at Clary and Jace. "Do you two want one?"

Clary blinked but Jace, surprisingly, said, "When I was a boy I had a pet falcon."

"Right, well, let's go there while the others go to Fred and George's joke shop." Sirius waved the others off and Harry smiled faintly, anxious to be away from the sight of adults.

Inside, the store was full of bright eyes and rustling wings. Clary had never had a pet before, and Jace, who had never owned an owl, was impressed. The shop keeper greeted them and asked politely if there was a specific type of owl they might like. Sirius smiled at the looks on the shadowhunters faces, and just waved the man off.

"Look at this," said Clary, stepping up to a stand where a snowy owl like Hedwig was sitting. The owl hooted and another flew over and nestled closer. "Jace, come look!"

Jace joined Clary and had to take a moment to admire the owl on the stand before him. It had bright orange eyes that stared shrewdly out under two tufted eyebrows, a coat of copper and black feathers, and sharp talons and beak. When Jace took a step closer it spread its wings in a threatening manner, but Jace merely smiled and held his hand out. It pecked him sharply.

"Sorry about that one," said the store keeper, hurrying over. "Eagle owl, bit of a temper. It's bit almost everyone I've had in. It was a wild one before it came here."

"I don't mind," said Jace, and wiped the blood off his hand and held it out again. The owl eyed him under its eyebrows, like it thought Jace was being annoying on purpose. It hooted sharply at him and then fluffed its feathers. Jace smiled at him. "He's a bit fierce, is all."

"If you think so, sir," said the shopkeeper.

Clary eyed the owl, but it was still staring at Jace. "He's a handsome fellow, isn't he?"

Jace nodded, but didn't take his eyes away from the owl. It blinked slowly and then straightened up so it could look down on Jace imperiously. Jace chuckled and the owl shook himself, waiting for Jace to come a step closer. He did and the owl, looking like a king, hopped from stand to Jace's arm, where is screeched loudly at the other owls, as if in challenge.

"He likes you," said Sirius to Jace, who was carefully petting the owl.

"If he doesn't like Clary, it doesn't really matter," Jace said after a moment, and then nodded Clary over.

At her approach, the owl spread its wings again, but Jace continued to rub its back. She held out her hand for the owl's inspection, and it snapped its beak at her. Jace held it a little closer, and Clary managed to swipe a few feathers with her fingers. The owl relaxed a little and Jace took a step nearer to Clary so that they could both pet it.

"Of course, he'd only be happy with two doting owners," the shop keeper laughed. "That is, if you're interested…?"

"I think we are," said Sirius, admiring the owl's haughty look. "Does he have a name?"

"Nope," said the man as he led Sirius over to the counter and fished around for a cage.

"What did you call your falcon?" Clary asked Jace while they pet the owl.

"It didn't have a name," Jace said in a blank voice, his face empty, but his eyes bright with some memory. "My f-Valentine said it wasn't important, that it was a pet, not a friend."

"Well, we have to name this one," said Clary, and the owl hooted in agreement.

Jace looked intensely uncomfortable. "I don't know. We don't really name…things, Clary. I mean, we called the cat Church because we lived in a church. Even shadowhunter names tend to be handed down." He thought of his own name and looked at the ground.

Clary sensed his bitterness at the loss of his past life. "Okay, well, we can keep the shadowhunter tradition up then. How about Razz? Like, short for Raziel?"

"You want to name an _owl_ after an angel?" He looked incredulous, but there was a faint smile pulling at his lips.

"Well, you names knives after them, so why not?" she said defensively.

"But, _Razz_?" Unfortunately for Jace, the moment he said the name, the owl hooted again, and puffed out his chest feathers. Jace stared at the owl. "You like that name?"

"I win," said Clary, and she flashed the owl an approving look.

Sirius was returning, carrying a cage. He held the door open and the owl, Razz, fluttered from Jace's arm to the stand within. He then tucked his head under his wing and seemed to fall asleep at once. Since Jace was carrying the books and school supplies, Clary took the cage and hoisted it up as they exited, heading for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.


	11. First Strike

**Sorry this is a little late everyone. I'm about to start school and I've got some important exams coming up soon, so the next few chapters might be a little sporadic. I hope you enjoy it!**

First Strike

_Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

Max was steadily eating his way through a serving of French fries when Magnus drifted into Taki's. His cat eyes scoured the room for a moment before landing on Alec. He hurried over to their table, Alec scooting over to make more room.

"So, mommy and daddy not letting the little ones out to play?" Magnus asked with a smile, but his voice was serious. He saw Max staring at him and winked.

"They think we're in danger," Alec sighed, and stared down at his hands, embarrassed. He didn't like coming off as anything less than an adult to Magnus.

"Well, Voldemort did target a member of your family," said Magnus slowly, "and there is that whole w_ar _with Valentine."

"We're leaving for Alicante soon," said Alec suddenly. "My parents told us that the Clave has called this big meeting, and we're going to have to go to discuss Valentine."

Magnus stared at Alec. "Do they really think running and hiding behind their wards is going to keep Valentine out?"

"No, but they're going to do it anyway," Alec said. "That's the real reason they want us to stay in the Institute. They think we're going to run off and look for Jace."

"You are trying to do that, though, aren't you?" Magnus looked from Isabelle to Alec and Max peeked at his siblings, wondering if they really were going to rescue Jace.

"We're hoping you might be able to clear that up for us," said Isabelle promptly. "The school he's going to. You said you don't know where it is, but it there any way you could find out?"

"I figured you would be looking for answers," Magnus sighed. "And I have been looking, though, like I said before, the school is hard to find."

"Did you find it?" Alec asked at once.

"There are mentions of it everywhere," Magnus began, "and most say it's in Scotland, but that's no really the problem. Places like Hogwarts are under multiple concealing enchantments. It's not like the Institute," he said, seeing Isabelle open her mouth. "The Institute is a physical place that exists in both worlds. Places like Hogwarts are Unplottable. It doesn't exist on any maps, and even if we somehow found it, and were standing outside it, we still couldn't see it. It would look like an abandoned castle or, more likely, we'd never find it. There are repelling charms that make you forget what you see the moment you see it, or you suddenly have to be somewhere that you forgot. The school is going to be too well hidden."

"But if we go there," said Alec slowly, "I mean, it's not like we won't find it. And it doesn't matter how powerful their wards are. If we go inside the castle, I'm sure we'll see it for how it really is."

"Alec, they're at war," Magnus said. "I'm sure they've got up protective spells around the perimeter."

"We could breach them," Alec said reasonably.

Magnus raised one eyebrow. "Have you _met_ Albus Dumbledore? He's an extremely talented wizard."

"Jace is my brother," Alec repeated with a certain gravity that made Magnus glance up at him.

"So you tell me," Magnus sighed. "How soon are you leaving for Idris?"

"The end of the month," said Isabelle with a dark look. "I feel like a coward, running from shadows while Jace and Clary are off somewhere fighting Dark warlocks."

Magnus considered them. "I don't really think I'm going to find anything as to the location of the school, but I might be able to find some land marks nearby that can direct us. But even if I could, I take it your parents are going to stop you from leaving the city, let alone their protection."

Isabelle frowned, truly annoyed at her parents unnecessary protection. "Then we won't tell them till we're gone."

Magnus wondered if he would be charged by the Clave for kidnapping young shadowhunters if he took them to Hogwarts, and then laughed about it. "Somehow, I feel like that plan never works."

"I want to see Jace," Max interjected, bored of the conversation and done with his French fries. "I want to see the school too! All this magic…what's it like?"

Magnus blinked at the small boy with the round glasses. "It's not demon magic like mine; there's no darkness to it. Imagine if shadowhunters could do magic with their runes. At least, that's what I've always thought." Alec thought he heard a small note of bitterness in Magnus's voice.

"Is it powerful?" Max asked. "Would Jace be an even better shadowhunter if he trained there?"

"There's no way of knowing, though I'm sure it won't hurt him to be able to able to apparate."

"Apparate?" Isabelle wondered.

"To disappear in one place and reappear in another instantly. Without a portal," said Magnus.

"They had something when they came," Isabelle mused. "They called it a port-something."

"Portkey," Magnus offered. "Yes, that's more like a portal. Useful, too. That's for long distance travel."

"How do you get one?" Alec asked suddenly. "Could we use a portkey to get to the school?"

"I doubt it," Magnus said simply. "I'm thinking that portkeys won't get past whatever charms are up around the school, and besides, I don't know how to make one. There's a spell for it."

"Could a portal get us there?" Alec asked next.

"I doubt it," Magnus said again. "If Voldemort really is back, then the headmaster is going to go to great lengths to protect the school. Our best chance is, as I said, find a land marker and hope to navigate on foot."

Isabelle didn't look too pleased at the thought of trekking anywhere, but she merely nodded. Max was staring hard at the warlock. "Can I come too?"

Isabelle gave him an apologetic look. "It might be best if you stay behind."

"But-"

"Max, it's too dangerous," Alec said sternly. "Whatever is out there, it's not for young shadowhunters."

"That's not fair!"

Alec looked pleadingly to Isabelle, but Magnus intervened. "There's no guarantee we're going anywhere. I can't even begin to imagine where to look, so let's not get our tempers up, alright?"

Max shoved his empty plate in front of him, angry, but Isabelle ordered him a smoothie and he had hard time glowering through the whipped toppings. They stayed a while longer, mostly so Alec could speak to Magnus and because Isabelle didn't want to go back to the Institute, but after an hour, Max's eyes were lidded and he was nodding off.

"I'll call you," Alec said, picking Max up. "Keep us updated on anything with the school."

"Let me know if your travel plans change, though I can assume your parents are going to be asking me to make the portal." Magnus stretched, catlike, and Isabelle caught Alec admiring him from the corner of her eye. She smirked when Alec gave him a brief hug at the entrance to the diner.

"And when is it going to be official?" Isabelle asked once Magnus was out of earshot.

"Izzy, don't," Alec said heavily.

She sensed his dour mood and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it. I think it's good you found someone. And, let's admit it, if you were going to go for a warlock, it might as well be the _high_ warlock."

Alec managed a faint smile, more for her benefit than his. "And what about you? Have you talked to Simon lately?"

Isabelle looked away into the distance. "I told him about Clary and Jace. He's a bit distraught, but if we find them, I'm sure he'll come right around."

Alec shifted Max's sleeping body. "You know what I meant."

"I'm not having the boyfriend talk with you, Alec-"

"Then have it with me, poppet."

Isabelle and Alec froze at the sound of the voice. They hadn't been paying attention to the scenery before, too engrossed in their thoughts of Hogwarts, but ahead of them, clear as day, a man was leaning against the wall of a building. He was hunched over, his face, hidden by his hat, but they saw his hands were in his pockets. Isabelle felt for her whip, and Alec shook Max awake. The man titled his head ever so slightly, and they saw that his eyes were glowing yellow. His mouth curled up in a tight smile, revealing startlingly white, very sharp, teeth.

"Who are you?" Isabelle asked clearly, her voice carrying around them. They noticed, unsettlingly, that they seemed to be on an abandoned street.

The man stood up straight, but his face was still hidden by the hat. "We have an acquaintance in common, and I'm a bit keen for news of them." He had an accent, one similar to the men who had come for Jace, and Alec suspected that if he wasn't with their lot, he was one of the men looking for his brother.

"I don't think we have any shared friends," said Alec in a measured voice. He was too aware of Max, curled in his arms, and didn't want a fight to ensue.

"True, I wouldn't call them friends, but I'm sure you've seen them." The man took a few steps toward them, slow, prowling steps. "One of them is a girl, small thing with red hair. _Clarissa_. The other's a boy, blond, good with knives. _Jon-_"

"Shut up about Jace," Isabelle snapped, and flicked her wrist so the whip uncoiled.

"Jace, is it?" The man laughed. "The Dark Lord will like to know that. Yes…but you're his sister, aren't you?" He lifted his head a little, presumably to peer at Isabelle. "We could use you well, little girl. I bet your brother would come running for you."

Isabelle smiled like a razor. "I bet you'll go running from me."

"I like them young," the man replied with a laugh that made Max shudder.

"You should run if you know what's best for you!" Max called, chin raised defiantly.

The man's face snapped in Max's direction, and Alec thought he heard a snuffling sound. "I always liked children…most tender flesh I ever get. Soft and smooth, and the look in their eyes just before I take the first bite-"

Isabelle's whip flashed though the air, cutting his sentence short. The man ducked, but his hat was sliced in two, and when he came up again, they saw his face. It was oval shaped, with a straight stern nose and a pair of small, round eyes that looked oddly luminescent in the faint moon light. His long hair was slicked back off his face, and his beard and sideburns were sparse. He had a hungry look about him, and when he smiled, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"What are you?" Isabelle whispered, unable to fully understand the man before her. Every sense was telling her it was a werewolf, but she'd never seen one like him before.

"A little shadowhunter's worst nightmare," he replied, and jerked his hand free from his overcoat; his fist was wrapped around a small stick, which he raised to them. "I hear the Clave doesn't teach you about magic, I hear you don't know how to defend yourself. Is that true, poppet?"

In response, Isabelle flicked her wrist again and the whip snapped through the air. It cause the man's arm but he snarled and slashed the wand through the air. A moment later, a burst of red light came hurtling their way and Alec and Isabelle scattered to avoid the blaze. Max screamed and grabbed Alec tighter, while Isabelle struggled back up to her feet.

"Was that a bit much for you?" the man asked, throwing back his head, ignoring the blood dribbling down his arm. "Let's try again. I'll even let you have the first go."

Alec didn't wait. He sent a dagger spinning through the air at the man, but he waved his wand lazily and the blade stopped mid air.

"Now, did you really expect that to work?" he asked slowly, admiring the airborne blade.

"Run, Izzy," Alec croaked.

"What, and leave you with him?" Isabelle demanded, snapping her whip again as the man stepped beyond the blade and it clattered to the ground. "No, you take Max and go, I'll stay behind and hold him off."

"Quickly, quickly," teased the man. "Think fast."

Another blast came this way, bright green this time, and where it hit the wall of a building, a large hole formed. Isabelle gaped at the damage for a moment before she felt Alec grab her arm and drag her away, but she stumbled over her own feet. It didn't do either of them any good, though; they hadn't gone ten steps when the man reappeared before them, his teeth bared.

"Where to run, where to run?" he asked, snapping his wand at a trash can that went soaring through the air and almost crashed into Alec. "I can't understand why Bella couldn't get her hands on your filthy, little friends; it's not like you put up much of a fight."

Isabelle lashed out with her whip again, and this time, it found its mark, leaving a bloody welt on the man's face. More in surprise than anything, the man reached up and gingerly touched his face before turning an ugly look on her.

"You're going to regret that, you little shadowhunter bitch." He raised his wand and this time, twisted it in a strange motion. Her whip uncurled from her arm and shot through the air to his hand. "There's going to be plenty of time for regretting. I'll make sure of it."

Isabelle and Alec stared, aghast. It seemed like the only way to fight effectively would be hand-to-hand combat.

"So, who wants to go first, hmm? I mean, we'll have to torture all three of you for information, but it's always so nice to have a volunteer. Big brother? Brave sister?" His eyes landed on Max. "Or the little one?"

"Stay back!" Isabelle warned, lifting her fists. It had been a while since she'd done any true hand-to-hand combat, but she was trained in it, and she had no doubt she was at least faster than the man.

"Or what?" he sneered. "You think fists work any better against magic than weapons?"

"No, but this might."

Alec spun about in time to see Magnus appear from the shadows behind them, hands raised, a blue fire leaping from his palms. The flames shot like a bullet and hit the man, who staggered back, snarling and cursing. Magnus grabbed Alec with one hand, Isabelle with the other, tugging them back the way they'd come.

"Hurry. You can spend the night at my apartment."

"What was that?" Isabelle panted as they ran to keep up with Magnus' long strides.

"A servant of Voldemort," he said grimly.

* * *

"Harry, there's no way of knowing what Malfoy did in that shop," Hermione said later that night. They had left Diagon Alley and, after a filling dinner, had hurried into the boys' room for discussion of Malfoy and his trip down Knockturn Alley. Jace and Clary had been rather surprised when everyone had congregated there, Clary especially had wanted to relax, but it seemed that the children had their own secret meetings.

"He showed Borgin something on his arm," said Harry, ignoring Hermione. "Something that scared him. I'm telling you, it's the Dark Mark."

"Come on," said Ron, a little uncertainly. "You really think You-Know-Who is going to make Malfoy a Death Eater? I mean, _Malfoy_?"

"His dad is one, and I'm sure he's just dying for the chance to prove himself," Harry said firmly. "Now that his dad's in prison, I bet he's taking his place!"

"Harry, that's insane," said Hermione. "Lord Voldemort wouldn't want some underage wizard in his army. He's get better servants."

"Malfoy is a Death Eater," Harry repeated, looking at them both.

Jace cleared his throat in what could have been a polite cough, but Clary knew better. "You plan to share any background information with the rest of us, or are we just going to sit here and agree with you?"

"Sorry," said Harry suddenly, noticing Jace and Clary for the first time. "Draco Malfoy is that boy you ran into in Madam Malkin's."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Should I have punched him then?"

"Couldn't hurt," said Ron reasonably.

"Let me explain," said Harry, and gave a quick history of Malfoy and his father, and what he had seen while they had been buying their owl and Mrs. Weasley had been exploring the joke shop.

"So, you think this kid is a new member of Voldemort's circle?" Clary asked slowly.

"I just don't think Lord Voldemort wants children-"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Jace said swiftly, thinking of Valentine. "My f-Valentine offered me a place in his army."

"Yes," said Hermione, a little testily, "but _you're_ really well trained, aren't you? Malfoy's not exactly top of our class."

"He might use him as a spy," Jace said next, Harry nodding his head in agreement. "The Inquisitor thought I was for Valentine."

"But you weren't," Clary reminded him. "She was just obsessed with her son."

It was strange for Jace to discuss the previous Inquisitor, now that he knew of their shared blood. Some of his emotions must have registered on his face because Clary said quickly, "Besides, Valentine and Voldemort aren't the same. We don't know what Voldemort wants."

They continued to discuss it a bit, but Harry was still certain that Malfoy was a Death Eater, supported by Jace, and the others thought it was a bit of a stretch. In the end, Hermione gave up and pulled out one of her new books, and Clary politely asked her about Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Ron and Harry watched the two girls, Ron with a bit more interest than Harry, and Jace absently picked through his new course books.

"You excited?" Harry asked Jace, watching the other boy closely. His face, Harry began to think, was almost completely emotionless, and Harry wondered, slightly envious, how he could train his features to look so detached. It might have come in useful when he was practicing Occlumency.

"It'll be nice to get out of this house," Jace said.

"I heard Mum going on about cleaning out the master bedroom." Ron shuddered. "That's where Sirius keeps Buckbeak."

Jace and Clary looked up at this. "Buckbeak?" Clary asked.

"He's a hippogriff," said Harry. "He was supposed to be executed, for attacking Malfoy actually, back in our third year, but we helped him escape."

"How? And what is a hippogriff?" Jace asked in quick succession.

"It's a bit of long story," said Hermione. "But you can meet Buckbeak if you want; hippogriffs are kind of these half horse, half bird animals."

"Half horse, half bird," Clary repeated.

"No really, how did you help him escape?" Jace asked again.

Harry shrugged and launched into the story of their third year: the escape of Sirius of Azkaban, his multiple appearances at the school, Buckbeak's attack, and the night they discovered Sirius was innocent. Towards the end, even Jace's carefully trained face was looking a bit shocked, and Clary's mouth was hanging open.

"You traveled back in time and saved Buckbeak so you could rescues Sirius from having his soul sucked out," Clary said, blinking at him. "You were thirteen and you traveled through time."

"Well, it was Dumbledore's idea," said Harry defensively.

Jace closed his eyes, thinking. What had he been doing when he was thirteen? He'd been training, albeit, he'd been excelling at his lessons, but he'd still been in the classroom. He'd spent every day either reading, practicing runes, or training; he hadn't been allowed to hunt demons until he was fourteen, and that with Robert or Maryse, and it wasn't until he was fifteen that he and the Lightwoods could go out alone.

_I was thirteen, I'd been training; they were thirteen, they'd been saving people's lives and traveling through time._ It was a hard reality to swallow that a Downworlder's childhood could have been more exciting, more dangerous, and more meaningful than his.

"So, Buckbeak is here?" Clary said, her eyes glowing.

"Upstairs," chuckled Harry. "Sirius keeps him in his mother's room, come on, I'll show you."

Jace and Clary followed Harry's heels up to Sirius's mother's room, not quite sure what they were expecting to see. Harry paused outside the door, catching both their eyes.

"So, hippogriffs are really proud, more proud than any other animal I've ever met-"

"More than Valentine?" Jace interjected quickly.

Harry smiled. "One day, we'll introduce the two, and let them have at it. But you have to bow when you meet him, and if he bows back, you can touch him."

"And don't blink too much," Hermione added. "They don't trust people who blink too much."

"Right," said Clary, and nodded toward the door.

Inside was the strangest thing Clary had ever seen, even though she had been told what a hippogriff was. Stretched out on the bed, head resting on its scaled talons was Buckbeak. He was the size of a horse, and indeed, his back half was that of a horse, grey speckled with black hair, and a wispy tail that curled around the bed post. Two large feathered wings pressed against his sides, and a proud arched neck supported an angular head with a beak and the sharp, yellow eyes of a hawk. Upon hearing the door open, Buckbeak snapped his head around to face them and released a sharp cry. Clary and Jace remained in the door, but Harry entered the room and stroked Buckbeak's head. His eyes closed lazily, and he hummed like a cat.

"This is Buckbeak, if you want to make your introductions," Harry said, gesturing to them.

As one, they both bowed, faces turned up, waiting for Buckbeak to respond. His keen eyes switched between Jace's face to Clary's with a sharp certainty that reminded Clary of Razz. After a moment, Buckbeak pulled himself off the bed and bent his knees into a bow. Harry smiled bit more.

"Now, you can pet him if you like."

"Jace, have you ever heard of something like this?" Clary asked, rubbing Buckbeak's head.

"No, this isn't something we ever really studied," he said, staring at the yellow eyes and running his hands over the feathers and fur at once. "This is amazing, though."

"Imagine riding him," Clary murmured.

Jace thought of his flying motorcycle with regret. "Bet it's a bumpy ride."

"Once you get used to it, it's not so bad, actually." Jace spun around, having not heard Sirius arrive. He smiled benignly at Jace's surprise. "Molly wanted me to ask you if you or Clary, or both of you, wouldn't mind spending some time with Nathaniel and Madeline. Apparently you're quite the charmer; Nathaniel agreed to move in with Remus and take Madeline with him."

Jace gave Buckbeak one more pat on his beak before leaving the room, Clary, curious, in tow. They headed to Nathaniel's room while Harry and Ron waved them off, saying they'd wait up. Jace knocked softly, waiting for Madeline to answer, and when she did, he saw her eyes dart to Clary, looking wary, but perhaps a little delighted at having a girl to talk to.

"Hello, Madeline," said Jace with a smile for her benefit. "I brought my friend Clary along today for you to meet. She's a shadowhunter too."

Madeline looked Clary over with care, and decided, after a few moments, that she deserved to be in the room, because she moved aside to allow her in. Clary gave her a sweet look, but Madeline was more focused on the boy who was sitting up in bed, and she jumped up to join him after closing the door. Clary looked over and spotted him and felt herself blush; he wasn't unattractive, but the bandaging on his shoulder must have covered a very painful wound.

"Nathaniel?" Clary asked, though she knew it was.

He seemed to check at being addressed by Clary, and she realized, that, like Jace, he was actually very polite where women were concerned. "Yes. You must be Clary."

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard all about you and your sister," she said, hoping it was a bland enough statement not to anger him.

"It's a small house, so I'm sure," he answered gruffly. "Your boyfriend didn't mention much of you."

Clary preened just a little at being addressed as Jace's girlfriend. "Yeah, well, I think he was worried I'd meet you and leave him." Jace glowered and Madeline giggled shrilly, but Clary just shook her head. "My, um…stepdad is a werewolf."

Nathaniel started. "You're a shadowhunter, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well, I'd rather have a werewolf than my real father, any day," she said confidentially and Nathaniel looked surprised. Clary stared down at her feet. "I recently found out my dad is…Valentine. Valentine Morgenstern."

Nathaniel blinked but wasn't able to recover from his shock in time for Clary to not see his mild disgust. "I didn't know he had any children."

"Yeah, neither did I," smirked Clary. "You see why I prefer a werewolf?"

"Yeah, I guess," Nathaniel shrugged, but it didn't make him feel much better knowing he'd only be preferred to Valentine Morgenstern. "Why did they bring you here?"

"Voldemort is looking for us," Clary said, and for some reason, this was funny to her. "Four months ago, I didn't even know shadowhunters existed, and now I'm stuck on the run from my father and some wizard I don't even know."

"You didn't _know _you were a shadowhunter?" Madeline asked loudly.

"My mom ran away from my father when she was still pregnant with me," Clary said dismissively. "Then, one night, I went out and saw Jace and his friends kill some demon; it was a bit like a crash course in shadowhunting."

Nathaniel smiled and Madeline laughed. "Now, you're going to learn to be a witch!" she cheered. "Do you want to?"

"Maybe," Clary mused. "It would make my life a lot easier if I could flick a wand and have my room clean. My mom always yelled at me because I left my paintbrushes everywhere."

Madeline looked a bit forlorn at the idea of having a mom. "My mother wasn't really home all that often, but Nathaniel and I used to stay up late, and he'd read my demonology books to me."

"I guess that's kinda a bed time story," Clary laughed.

"You can paint?" Madeline asked next, and before Clary could answer, snatched up a piece of paper and pencil and handed it to Clary. "Show me. Draw something."

Clary took the paper uncertainly. "What do you want?"

"A wolf. A big wolf."

Clary carefully set the pencil to paper, and before long, Madeline had joined her, watching intently while she traced the figure. As she worked, Jace joined Nathaniel on the bed.

"I figured your sister might like her," he murmured.

Nathaniel watched Clary work. "She's a nice girl. I'm surprised she'd be seen with you," he snickered.

Jace smiled, but there was something painful in his expression. "I am too."

Nathaniel perceived a deep sadness in Jace, and he wondered what the boy was thinking. "Well, if you ever find another shadowhunter girl who wouldn't mind a werewolf, you let me know."

Jace thought of Isabelle. "You'd be surprised. I heard that Madeline is coming with you when you move in with Mr. Lupin."

"Yeah, I guess I couldn't…leave her," he said stiltedly.

"Better to have your family with you," Jace said. _You hypocrite. You left Alec and Isabelle without a thought._

"I feel guilty. I agreed to take her with me because I didn't want to go alone," he admitted quickly.

"She didn't want to be alone either," Jace reminded him. "Besides, it's not like she doesn't have a future. If Clary and I can actually do magic, why couldn't she? Maybe she'd even like the school."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "Our parents would never forgive me if I let her become a witch. It's like I'm throwing her future away."

"Well, with the way the Clave is heading, maybe it's better she isn't part of it." Jace thought of Valentine and how sure he had seemed that night on the boat; he'd had the Sword, he'd had the Cup, and he had his destiny. He could still remember Valentine's rage against the Downworlders, and how he considered anyone associated with them to be undeserving of the Angel. He thought of himself, right now, in a house of wizards, adopted by a wizard, going to a wizard school. "She might be better off here."


	12. Safe House

**Sorry this is coming out late everyone. I just started a new school year and I'm trying to adjust to the new work load. Hope you enjoy it!**

Safe House

_The point is, we're at war, Prime Minister, and steps must be taken._

_-Cornelius Fudge_

What was that thing?" Isabelle panted the moment Magnus slammed the door to his apartment closed. "Was it a demon?"

Magnus rested his head against the door and drew a deep breath. His mind was racing with the image of Alec, standing there clutching his little brother, and looking on helplessly while the werewolf had stalked closer and closer. He clutched his hands into fists. "It was a wizard."

Isabelle and Alec gaped. "No," said Alec finally. "He was completely unaffected by or weapons. He could transport himself without a portal. That's not a warlock."

"_I didn't say warlock_!" Magnus snarled, whipping around, and Alec was shocked to see that his anger was directed at him and Isabelle. "What have I been telling you all this time about wizards? They are _different_."

"But their magic-"

"Is different," Magnus finished. "They are not borne of demon powers, and are not affected like warlocks. That man was a servant of Lord Voldemort, obviously sent for Jace, but settling for you."

Max, who was still curled up in Alec's arms, turned about to face Magnus. "He had claws, and said he was going to eat me."

"He's a werewolf," Magnus said evenly.

"You said he was a warlock," Isabelle hissed.

"He is both, and incredibly dangerous." Magnus crossed the room and retrieved a news paper from the table. The shadowhunters were surprised to see that the pictures on the front page were moving, and it was called the _Daily Prophet._ Magnus opened it to the second page and held it up for them all to read. "When you told me that Jace and Clary had been taken because Voldemort was looking for them, I renewed my subscription to the _Prophet._ I've been out of the loop lately, all to our detriment."

On the page were the pictures of ten or so people, all of them moving, most of them snarling and screaming at the camera. They all had the same look about them: wild, crazed, furious, and dark. The most noticeable was a woman at the top with tangles of dark hair, empty, black eyes, and a haughty lift to her chin, as if she was too good for the paper's second page. However, in the corner, was the image of the man they had just met.

Alec read, "Fenrir Greyback is wanted for the use of the Unforgiveable Curses and the heinous acts of torture and murder of Muggles and shadowhunters, as well as his attacks on families and children at the full moon. If you see this man, do not try to apprehend him, contact a Ministry official at once."

"The Unforgivable Curses?" Isabelle asked, staring at the man's oddly distorted face.

"There are three of them, and the use of any is punishable with a sentence of life imprisonment." Magnus placed the paper back on the table and sank into a seat. The others followed him. "The Imperious Curse, and Cruciatus Curse, and Avada Kedavra."

"And what do they do?" Alec asked softly, his eyes still on the man's picture.

"The Imperious Curse, when performed correctly, can give a person control over another; the Cruciatus Curse is the torturing curse; and Avada Kedavra is the killing curse." Magnus glanced at the Death Eaters. "These are all trademarks of Voldemort's forces. I didn't know he had enlisted werewolves, though."

"Werewolves wouldn't help him," Alec said firmly. "I mean, they signed the Accords, didn't they? Why would they risk so much?"

"Different werewolves, first of all." Magnus smiled grimly. "You're thinking of Luke, aren't you? Turns into a great big wolf whenever he wants, but can keep his mind during the turn; these are Old World werewolves, the ones Mundanes tell stories about, the kind that turn into monsters once a month. They're not a part of the Accords, and I doubt they ever will be since the Clave pretends they don't exist. They were the Ministry's problem up till now."

Isabelle stared at the man's face and thought of the way he'd smiled at her. "He's a monster."

"Not all werewolves are like him, though Greyback is gaining support, I hear. He's trying to convince others that the Ministry has mistreated werewolves for too long, and that Lord Voldemort will offer them what they want."

"What do they want?" Alec asked.

Magnus met his eyes with a troubled look. "Fresh meat."

Max squirmed against his brother. "Then we'll kill them," said Alec with finality.

"Because that went so well, Alec," Magnus scoffed. "No, you won't, at least. You must realize at this point how disadvantaged you are? True, in hand-to-hand combat, shadowhunters will definitely have the advantage because your years of training and runes, but you have to get within fighting distance first. "

"You think we can't fight them?" Alec asked uncomfortably.

"I think you can if you're close enough, but you saw how little effect your weapons have on them. They can deflect them or avoid them. It makes you vulnerable to spells which have a very long range." Magnus sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Besides, most of them aren't _that_ stupid. Once a shadowhunter is close enough to kill them, they'll run for it."

Alec frowned, thinking of the wizard they had so recently met. "Maybe not in a duel, but we still have the advantage in a fight." Magnus shrugged noncommittally.

Isabelle flicked her eyes up to the picture of the woman who was sneering back at her. "Bellatrix Lestrange…"

"She's one of the worst," Magnus said. "Right in Voldemort's inner circle, and during the first war, she committed some of the worst crimes: torture and murder of Mundanes, shadowhunters and wizards alike. I heard she's quite gifted with the Cruciatus Curse, especially after what happened to the Longbottoms."

"Who?" Isabelle tore her eyes away from her face.

"I heard about the trial," Magnus said unwillingly. "After Voldemort disappeared, she and her fellow Death Eaters went looking for leads, and ended up at the house of two Ministry Aurors: the Longbottoms. She tortured them till it drove them mad."

Isabelle swallowed. "That werewolf, Greyback, said he didn't understand why _Bella _couldn't catch Jace. Do you think he meant her?"

"Possible," Magnus murmured. "She would be one of his most dangerous servants, and quite capable of bringing in Jace."

"Do you think she's still looking for him?" Isabelle asked at length. "Do you think she could…?"

"Catch him?" Magnus shook his head. "Not now that he's with Dumbledore. I would think he's fairly safe, or as safe as he can be now, and, honestly, Jace can probably handle himself with most Death Eaters given his _particular _gifts. That does leave us the problem of you, though."

"Us? I mean, they only want us because of Jace, right?" Alec gave Magnus a long look. "Besides, we're staying at the Institute."

"The Institute in London was attacked, the shadowhunters slaughtered, and there were far more of them than there are of you. The Institute isn't safe anymore." Magnus ran a hand through his hair. "Call your parents, tell them what happened, and then tell them they need to move. You'll all have to relocate quickly if you want to avoid the Death Eaters."

"My mom and dad aren't going to leave the Institute," Isabelle said with certainty. "They don't believe these people are dangerous, so they're not going to do it for no reason. Even if we were attacked, they'll just say it's because we were outside the Institute when it happened."

"That place isn't safe," Magnus repeated. "Tell them you're staying here for the night, and during the day you can find a new place to stay until you go to Idris. I take it you have friends somewhere?" Isabelle and Alec's blank looks were not a good sign to Magnus, who covered his face with his hands. "Give me my phone," he said, and began dialing a number.

"Who are you calling?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Luke."

* * *

The work in Grimmauld Place had begun to reach miserable proportions, to the point that even Hermione, who strived to be polite, was becoming as frustrated and sharp as Jace. They had spent the days following their sojourn to Diagon Alley going from deserted bedroom to deserted bedroom, carefully pulling the place apart. The house must have sensed that it was under attack from intruders, and had risen to the occasion marvelously.

On the first day, Clary had reported to the kitchen, her ears swelling painfully to ridiculous proportions because she had been bitten by a cloud of angry pixies that had been hiding in a dresser; Mrs. Weasley had set her straight with a tricky little charm, but Clary, however, had refused to return to cleaning that day, and had been relegated to babysitting Madeline and Nathaniel. On the other hand, a large trunk that was stationed in a shadowy corner had tried to swallow Ron, and Harry and Jace had had to pry him free while Clary and Hermione held the lid open; on the same day, a necklace and matching ear rings had attacked Ginny, leaving nasty scratches all over her face that needed to be covered in a foul smelling solution to heal. On the fourth day, Harry needed to sit down for an hour owing to strange cloud of purple smoke that had enveloped his head after he beat some rugs; it had induced hallucinations that resulted in Harry believing he was tracking a lion through a tropical forest. Ron had been fond of performing reenactments at dinner that night, his favorite, when Harry, had stuck a waste basket on his head as a helmet and, supposing Jace was the lion, wrestled him to the ground. Hermione found it all very funny until the next day, she was set upon by a dirty clothes hamper that spit soiled towels are her. By the end of the week, Jace alone had avoided any serious injury, Clary muttering darkly about his "shadowhunter reflexes." Grimmauld Place, though, must have known that at least one enemy remained, and while they were going through a small, private library, it sprung.

Jace had been picking over old books with curious titles, and though he wasn't too fond of magical texts, had always been a lover of books. He smiled wryly, thinking of the few times he had disobeyed Valentine and read things he wasn't supposed to; it hadn't ended well, but he doubted anyone was going to take a belt to him here. He plucked a book off the top of the heap, a black volume written in Latin, in which he was semi fluent. He opened it, flicking through a few pages, when the book jerked, opened itself like a spring trap, and then snapped closed on his hand.

Clary heard Jace scream from the next room and came rushing in, but the sight that met her eyes was too confusing for her to comprehend. Jace was stumbling around the room, waving a large book that appeared to be attached to his hand, screaming every type of curse he could muster, and in quite a few languages, too. Harry and Ron were trying to stop him, managing to grab the back of his shirt.

"Stroke the spine, stroke the spine!" Harry was screaming.

Jace didn't appear to have heard because he twisted free and lunged for the fire grate, holding the book over the flames. It gave a crooning sound and leapt from his hand, scuttling like a weird crab to hide behind its fellows. Jace was holding his hand by the wrist, examining his now broken fingers.

"Son of a bit-"

"Jace," Clary rasped, rushing over to him. "What happened?"

"The book bit me!" he roared. His gaze flicked to Harry and Ron. "And you two, _stroke the spine?_"

"Well, it worked once," Ron grumbled.

"Well, my fingers are broken now, so I guess I'm off duty for the rest of the day," Jace snapped, now more embarrassed than angry that he'd been attacked by a book.

"I'm sure Sirius can fix your fingers," Harry said kindly. "He's down in the kitchen."

Deciding it was high time for lunch, they all trooped back down to find Mrs. Weasley and Sirius deep in discussion. When Jace entered, he said loudly, "Your book broke my fingers."

"Come again?" asked Sirius politely, though he had a wicked smile. "I'm half deaf at the moment, see, from this awful screaming that nearly burst my ear drums."

Jace made a face and held his hand up. "I opened a book and it bit me."

"Consuming read, eh?" Sirius was shaking with laughter, but he waved Jace over for a closer look. He inspected the fingers closely for about a minute, pulled out his wand, and muttered a few words over his hand. The bones popped back into place, though the large number of paper cuts still peppered his hand. "Good as new."

"I hate this place," Jace said with conviction. "It's worse than the Institute, it's worse than the Bone City, and its worse than the house I lived in with Valentine- at least there, nothing was jumping out at me, I only had _one_ annoying monster to worry about."

"Well, variety is the spice of life," Harry said seriously.

"Besides," Sirius said with a consoling look, "you won't be here long. One more week, then it's off to Hogwarts."

"And am I going to run astray of any other inanimate objects that can attack me?" Jace asked gruffly, though Clary could tell he was in a better mood at the thought of leaving this place.

"Just the Whomping Willow," said Harry in an offhand way. "Stay away from that though, and you'll be fine."

Jace looked ready to push the point further, but Clary spoke over him. "Can I send a letter to Luke? Razz keeps rattling around, I think he wants to stretch his wings."

Sirius considered it while Mrs. Weasley laid out their lunch. "I'd prefer if you waited until you were on your way to Hogwarts. I'm sure Voldemort has people watching for this place, and it'll look suspicious if there are owls flying in and out."

Clary's shoulders slumped, but Hermione said, "Well, think of all the things you'll be able to tell him once you're on the way? And after your first week, you'll have loads to write. I know I did my first year."

"Well, I think the Lightwoods might want to know how Jace is, too," said Clary, casting Jace a sideways look. "And I'd like to know how everything is going in the war against Valentine."

"Was it going poorly before?" asked Harry, interested in any war that didn't have to do with Voldemort.

"Yes," said Jace darkly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "Valentine has the Cup and the Sword and is going to raise an army of demons and march on Idris."

"He's obsessed with my mom, too," said Clary suddenly. "He kidnapped her and wants her to come back to him. And he hates me." There was a long silence after Clary's admission, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared at her with a startled expression. "Well, it's the truth," she said defensively.

"I'm sure he doesn't-"

"Yes, he does. He doesn't like anyone he can't use." Clary thought of him, looking down on her, the Sword pointed at her like she was an insect. There had been nothing but mild dislike in his eyes; she hadn't even warranted his attention long enough for him to hate her. "The only reason he wants me is because I'm his daughter."

Hermione smiled uncertainly. "You _are_ his daughter, it makes sense he'd want you-"

"He wants me because he thinks he owns me, that's all." Clary glanced at Jace for support. "At least he likes Jace."

"He doesn't like me!" Jace objected, rocking back in his seat. "He taught me how to fight, so he wants to use me."

"Wait, stop a moment," said Ron, holding up his hands. "Are you both his children?"

Jace's face, Harry noticed, had taken on that blank look again, and he realized that however uncomfortable Jace was feeling, no one would know. "He cut…both my parents were dead, so he took me when I was a baby and raised me till I was ten and then faked his death and I was sent to live with my godparents, the Lightwoods. I've been with them since."

"And my mom ran away from Valentine when she was still pregnant with me, so I never knew him," Clary said. "Valentine didn't even know I existed until recently."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, and he meant it.

Jace glanced at him, a strained smile twisting his face. "I'm not. If he hadn't raised me, I wouldn't be who I am now."

Harry blushed a little. "Do you…want to help him?"

"Of course not," said Jace, his chair crashing back to the floor. "He-he wants to destroy everything the Clave built, and I'm not saying the Clave is alright, but it's better than what he has in mind." Jace seemed intensely uncomfortable, and Clary's hand snaked over to his and clutched it tight.

"Who are the Lightwoods?" Ginny asked loudly.

"My family," said Jace, glad to have an excuse to not talk about Valentine. "Robert and Maryse, and then my step siblings: Alec, Isabelle and Max."

"What are they like?" Hermione asked, chewing her sandwich quickly.

"Alec's really overprotective." Jace smirked, thinking of something from a long time ago. "Izzy is a bit…of a wild child." Clary snorted into her sandwich. "Max is just little."

"They sound so nice," said Hermione. "I bet they miss you loads."

Jace thought of his parting with the Lightwoods, and that angry look when he told Alec he was leaving. "I'm sure they want me back." He picked at the food on his plate dismally. "Once this is all over, I'd like to go back to New York."

"You certainly can," said Sirius and scooted his chair back. "But right now, you lot have to get back to that study and I've got some work for the Order."

They said goodbye to Sirius, who thanked Molly for the food as he left. The children bolted their food and headed back up to the study and the vicious books.

* * *

Later that evening, after dinner, they were all in the boys' room, lounging. Hermione had taken it upon herself to help Jace and Clary fill in some gaps in their magical education. She sat before them, trying to explain wrist movements and pronunciation of words. Jace, as always, was quick to pick up anything physical, but he regarded anything having to do with magic as childish. He performed the wand movements with an ironic smirk, slouching against the wall, bored out of his mind. Clary was far more interested in magic, and watched Hermione closely trying to mimic everything she did.

"Can I do magic now?" Clary asked curiously, turning her wand over in her fingers.

"Well, usually, no, because underage wizards have the Trace on them, but…" Hermione didn't finish, but Ron and Harry had stirred and were looking at Clary and Jace with a lot more interest.

"But they don't have the Trace," said Harry, his eyes glowing. "So, they can do magic, and no one would know."

Jace glanced up at that, looking mischievous. He pointed his wand at a book that was sticking out from under his bed, flicked his wand, and said, "Accio bo-" before he could even finish the spell, the book shot through the air and he caught it deftly. He eyed the book, thinking. "This spell could come in handy when I'm fighting; I'd never have to worry about running out of weapons, I could just summon them back to me."

"How did you do that?" Ron demanded. When Jace looked at him, surprised, he said, "Most people need practice. You can't just do a spell once and get it right."

"Jace is just good at everything," Clary said darkly, earning a very smug look from Jace. "Accio parchment!" A roll of parchment flew through the air with a bit more control and grace than the book and landed gently in her hands. Clary's face broke into a smile. "Maybe it's because of our gifts?" Clary asked Jace.

"Gifts?" Hermione perked up.

Clary found herself explaining about their trip to the Seelie Court, and the Queen, and her hints that she and Jace were more than normal shadowhunters. She saw their faces getting more and more serious and not a bit impressed.

"I bet my broom that's why Voldemort wanted you," said Harry excitedly. "He must have found out about it and thought he could use you or something. Imagine the damage you could have done if he'd gotten to you before Dumbledore."

Jace clicked his tongue irritably. "Neither of us would have helped him."

"It probably would have been against your will," said Hermione sadly. "He would have tortured you or your families, or he could have used the Imperious Curse." Jace raised his eyebrows in confusion and Hermione did her best to explain the Unforgiveable Curses. "…so he could have made you do anything, really."

Clary looked horrified at the idea. "He could have used us to kill people."

"Probably, yes," said Harry. "Guess it's a good thing we found you first."

"Is that why you're here?" Clary asked, looking from Harry, to Ron, to Hermione. "Does he want to use you, or-"

Their laughter cut Clary off. "Last year, Dumbledore told me about some prophecy that said I had to kill Voldemort, or he had to kill me. Even if I decided I wasn't going to fight him, he'd still hunt me down and kill me anyway. He's been trying since my first year at Hogwarts."

"And I'm Muggle born," said Hermione. "He'll kill me the first chance he gets because of that."

"Could be worse, though, Hermione," Ron said reasonably. "You could be like me and the rest of my family. We're all blood traitors," he said to Clary and Jace, "you know, pure bloods who fight against him. Sirius is one too. But my family, we're the biggest lot of blood traitors there are."

"It's nice, isn't it, to know that shadowhunters aren't the only people in the world with such a depressing view of life?" Clary asked Jace suddenly, and he smirked at her. "So, I guess your school must be-"

"-The safest place in the world for anything?" Harry finished. "Yeah, something like that. Though I bet if Dumbledore tells all the parents he's got shadowhunters guarding the place, it'll sound even better."

"I can't guard anything," Jace said mulishly. "I wasn't allowed to bring any weapons, and Sirius has my stele."

"Your what?" Ron asked.

Jace waved his hands over his arms. "We mark ourselves with runes to give us power. We use a stele to do it."

"So, you're saying your reflexes are faster with runes?" Harry asked. "Probably going to have to get that stele from Sirius, for the sake of the Quidditch team, let alone our lives."

"Harry, that's cheating!" Hermione said at once.

"Cheating such an ugly word," Jace gleamed at her. "What about _enhancing_?"

"My thoughts exactly," said Harry, standing up. "We're going to _enhance_ the team performance."

"Plus, Hermione," said Ron, standing too, "think of how much safer we'll all be knowing Jace can skewer a Death Eater from twenty yards."

Hermione, however, didn't look quite so relieved as the boys left to retrieve the stele.

* * *

"Mom, we can't stay here," Isabelle said empathetically. "You heard Magnus, the Death Eater people can get in the Institute. It's not safe anymore."

"That's ridiculous," Maryse said, her eyes glinting.

"Then why did you agree to send Jace away?" Alec countered quickly. "You must have thought he was in danger from those people."

"The only reason you encountered _those people _is because you directly disobeyed our rules and were running around at night in the streets," Robert growled. "None of this would have happened if you had just stayed in like we told you."

"Our weapons didn't even work!" Isabelle said loudly.

"I highly doubt that," Robert said, aiming a furious look at his daughter. "More likely, your skills in batter aren't up to scratch. You put yourself in danger on purpose!"

"And how could you take Max with you?" Maryse continued now her eyes on Alec. "He's a little boy and you thought you'd take him demon hunting?"

"We weren't demon hunting!" Alec cried. "We were getting food when this werewolf thing attacked us."

"_Werewolf thing_? This is ridiculous, Alec," Maryse snapped. "Whatever attacked you, it wasn't a werewolf. You decided to go out, against our wishes, and you ran into some demon creature, and now you think warlocks are chasing you. You're clearly not ready to be out by yourselves."

"Magnus saw it!" Alec snapped. "He helped us fight it off. He called Luke and told him we'd be going there soon."

"Luke?" Maryse hissed. "Lucian Greymark? What has he got to do with any of it?"

"Magnus says no one will suspect we've gone there, and he called him. Luke said we were more than welcome to go over to the old abandoned police station where his pack stays. We'll be safe there until we go to Idris."

Maryse's face was the picture of disgust. "I am _not _hiding in some werewolf pack den because of your make believe monsters. You're both to go to your rooms and _stay there_."

"Mom!" Isabelle cried.

"If you leave, Isabelle, I _will _take all your weapons and steles and put a locking rune on your door."

"But-"

"Max could have died!" Maryse said over her daughter. "You and Alec could have been hurt. What if Valentine had sent out his demons looking for you? What if you had been caught? Did you ever think of the danger you might have been in then?"

"What about Voldemort?" Alec asked swiftly. "You're so worried about Valentine, well, what about the warlock Jace had to run from?"

"Jace _did _leave," Robert said in a hard voice. "The warlock won't come here looking for him."

"He'll come for Jace's family," Alec tried to explain. "The werewolf said they would."

Robert held up a hand and Alec fell silent. "I'm not listening to this nonsense anymore, Alexander. You and your sister will go to your rooms, you will stay there, and you will say nothing more. In a week, we're all going to leave for Idris, and, if you behave yourselves, we won't lock you up in the Penhollow's house while we're there."

Alec flushed. He was eighteen, after all, and his parents technically didn't have any say over what he did and where he went. He had half a mind to point this out to his father, but there was a glint in Robert Lightwood's eyes that told Alec any more arguing would result in something bad. Scowling, Alec took Isabelle by her forearm and pulled her away, back upstairs to their rooms. Max, who had been listening from the first landing set upon them the moment they were up.

"What did Mom and Dad say?"

"We're staying here, Max," Alec said firmly. "Mom and Dad think we'll be safe, and we're not allowed to leave again."

"But you told them-"

"We told them," Isabelle sniped. "And they didn't believe us. They think it was just some stupid demon."

"But Magnus told us to hide," Max continued, his face lined with too much worry for one so young. "What if that werewolf comes back here looking for us?"

"They think the Institute is safe," Alec said again and caught his brother by the shoulder. "Max, just go back to your room; we're in enough trouble as it is, and there's no point arguing about it."

"What about the werewolf?" Max whined.

"We're safe," Alec repeated, and firmly pushed his little brother into his room, closing the door with a snap behind him.

Isabelle, though, wasn't put off so easily; she eyed Alec bitterly. "You don't really think that, do you? After everything we've seen and heard, you don't actually think this place is safe?"

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it, even if I wanted," Alec said sharply. "Just be grateful Mom and Dad aren't locking you in your room after our little stunt."

"I'd rather they did!" Isabelle said furiously. "Better to know how we stand than pretend otherwise."

"Isabelle," Alec began, but she had stormed off, slamming her door with enough force to shake the portraits on the walls. Defeated, Alec stalked back to his room and threw himself on his bed. For a while he lay there, thinking that he should have simply gone to Luke's and not come home at all, when his phone vibrated.

It was from Magnus: **Have you gone to Luke's yet?**

Resigned, Alec replied: **No, my parents want us to stay. They think it's safe.**

Magnus' response took some time, and Alec had begun to wonder if he was even going to bother. **You need to get out of there. It doesn't matter what your parents think. Take your siblings and go tonight. **Alec was about to respond when another message came through. **You're in danger if you stay. Greyback and the rest of the Death Eaters know where you live. Get out now.**

Alec stared at Magnus' words for a long time, weighing his options in his mind. He didn't want to go against his parents, he even wanted to believe them and go to sleep knowing his family was safe, but there was a strange sense of urgency in Magnus' requests that unsettled him. He knew how to get to Luke's, he thought, and the sun hadn't yet set. If he was going to go, now would have been the time to do it. He thought again of his parents' faces when they had found out Alec, Isabelle, and Max had left, and how they had looked to him, disappointment etched in the lines of their faces. He was the oldest, it was his job to protect the others.

**Get out now.**

_I'm supposed to protect my family,_ he thought. _I'm the oldest, I'm the responsible one. _

**Get out now.**

_Sorry, _was Alec's lest thought before he jumped up and started piling clothing and weapons into a duffle bag. He scraped together all the cash he had and smashed it in his wallet before inching his bedroom door open and creeping carefully down the hall to Isabelle's room. He knocked gently twice before she finally opened it, and her face was black.

"What do you want?"

"I think we should leave."


	13. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Aboard the Hogwarts Express

_I enjoyed the meetings too. It was like having friends._

_-Luna Lovegood_

The last week in Grimmauld place couldn't go quickly enough, as far as Jace was concerned. The house had begun to feel more and more like a prison since their minute escape to Diagon Alley. Since then, the children had been forced to spend days and nights inside, cleaning and studying. Since the discovery of Clary and Jace's freedom from the Trace, Hermione had been more rigorous in her lessons, and the two were practicing simple spells every night. Personally, Clary didn't think it was going to do them any good, since they were about five years behind, but Hermione, Ron, and Harry assured them they were doing well.

"Better than Crabbe and Goyle anyway," Ron said. "Really, it took those two a year to learn a Summoning charm, and you did it first night out. You'll do fine, plus, if you get into a duel, you can always just punch them, right?" He looked to Jace, who smiled slightly, fingering the stele he now kept in his pocket at all times.

"Also, a lot of magic is memorization," said Hermione kindly. "You know, memorizing how to say a spell and hand motion. You spent your whole childhood memorizing runes, I bet you can do spells easy."

Clary looked uncertain, and felt a leaf of nervousness unfurl in her stomach. What if she was awful? What if she was the worst in their class? What if she was expelled for being so bad? "You'll be able to help us, won't you?"

"Of course," said Hermione, smiling broadly. "But, you'll do fine, I'm sure."

They were sitting in the girls' room this time, because it was a fair bit tidier, and because Sirius was trying to tackle the regurgitating garbage can and had asked for privacy in case it turned ugly, and Clary was seated on her bed beside Jace, petting Razz. He was perched on Jace's arm, but had turned his attention to Clary. She eyed the owl fondly.

"Can I borrow some paper? I want to get my letter ready," Clary said to Ginny. She was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, scanning for any news of Voldemort, and started when Clary spoke.

"Yeah, sure, I've got some spare parchment and a quill," she said absently, pointing to the bedside table drawer.

Clary fished around for the parchment and stared at the quill dubiously. "I've never written with one."

"It's not too hard," said Hermione helpfully, loading it with ink for her. "There."

While Clary wrote, Jace toyed with her hair, and said to Harry, "How do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Train," he said, sitting on the floor with broom and broomstick servicing kit. "We'll leave for Kings Cross Station in the morning and catch it by eleven. It's a bit of a long ride, so don't wear your new robes."

"And I was looking forward to that part, too," Jace said caustically. Cleary tweaked his side and he said, in a more level voice, "And then what? Do we go to class?"

"There's a Welcome Feast on the first night, then we have class starting the next morning." Harry starting polishing the handle. "I heard sixth years get a lot of free time, too."

"We're supposed to use that time to study for our NEWT's," Hermione said crossly. She saw Jace and Clary stare at her and said, "Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests."

Jace opened his mouth to say something, probably a snarky comment, but was cut when someone tentatively knocked on the door. Ginny glanced up from her paper. "Ron, can you get the door?"

"It's probably Mum coming to tell us the basement needs cleaning," he grumbled.

It was not Mrs. Weasley, however, but Nathaniel and Madeline. He looked awkward and uncomfortable, standing there, but Madeline rushed past to Clary. "Mind if we join you?" he asked listlessly.

"Not at all," said Harry, who was just as surprised to see Nathaniel as Nathaniel was to see him. "You want to sit down…?"

Hermione pushed some books off her bed and made space for him. Nathaniel sat down, looking around the room with a bit of interest; he pointedly wouldn't meet Jace's eyes, but after a moment, he spoke.

"So, you're all leaving soon then?"

"End of the week," Harry said.

"Us too," he said absently. "Remus told us today that once you're all out of the house, Mrs. Weasley wants to spend a bit of time back at home and we'll move into his house."

"You'll come visit us at Hogwarts though," said Ron with certainty. "I mean, the Order is protecting the castle, so I bet Lupin can take you along and we can all see each other on weekends."

It was strange, Harry thought, that though they had never really given much thought to these two, and Nathaniel hadn't given much thought to them, how sure they all were that they would see each other again. The idea of Nathaniel and Madeline, living alone while Remus did work for the Order left an uncomfortable sensation in Harry's stomach; they deserved to have a life too.

"I don't know if it's safe to keep werewolves so nearby children," Nathaniel replied in his dead voice.

"You're harmless with the Wolfsbane potion," asserted Hermione. "And Snape knows how to make it. He made it for Lupin for an entire year while he was teaching; I'm sure he can brew it for you too."

Nathaniel eyed her with a level look and Jace knew he was doing his best not to get his hopes up. "So," he said suddenly to Jace, "any news about Valentine?"

Jace glanced helplessly to Clary. "We're not allowed to send letters till we're on the way to Hogwarts."

Nathaniel scrunched up his nose. "Feels like you're in a different world, doesn't it? We're on the outside now."

Jace didn't particularly enjoy being _on the outside_, and pulled out his stele, spinning it between his fingers swiftly. "Yeah, I guess, but when all this over I might still go back to New York. We need to cure Clary's mom and I think Isabelle and Alec will murder me if I don't go back."

Nathaniel blinked at him and Clary added, "You could come, too, if you wanted to meet our friends. My friend Simon is a vampire and my step dad is a werewolf."

"It'd be one big party," Nathaniel said, smirking, and silence fell.

Harry glanced to Ron, who was looking between the shadowhunters as if trying to understand what they were. He tapped his palms on his thighs nervously before saying, "Anyone want to play Wizard chess?"

"What?" Jace rounded on Ron with his usual look of annoyance at something he'd never heard of.

"It's like Muggle chess," Harry explained, "but the pieces move and everything. I've got a set if you want to borrow them. They might not trust you, though, since you're new."

Jace raised on eyebrow and nodded. Ron went to grab the board and chess sets from his room while Jace lowered himself to the floor and watched Harry clip small twigs in his broomstick. When Ron returned, he showed Jace how to direct his troops and then set up the board. Nathaniel had slunk around the room until he sat before the board as well, slightly intrigued by the game. Jace, who considered himself a master chess player, was shocked when Ron began taking his pieces. Partly, he blamed the players themselves since, like Harry had said, they didn't seem to trust him and argued, but a small part of him grudgingly recognized that Ron was very good at chess.

In the end, Ron won, and Jace, after Clary poking him in the back sternly, shook his hand. Nathaniel took over next, but he lost too. It didn't seem to matter, though, that they were losing. By the end of night, the boys were having a raucous by friendly argument over war strategies and the girls were dissolving into fits of giggles as they read the Personal's ads in the _Daily Prophet_.

* * *

The week passed by rather quickly. Mrs. Weasley had given up on cleaning the house and said they had made excellent headway and that over their Christmas Break that might tackle the last few rooms. The children spent most of their time together, either in their rooms or in the kitchen, and found they had a surprising amount in common. Harry, mostly consumed by the movements of Voldemort, was happy to have Jace, who busied himself with the same worries about Valentine. Though Ron was Harry's main confidante, Jace was never out of the loop. Nathaniel had joined them too, and though he was rarely cheerful or verbose, he seemed to enjoy the company of other people, and Mrs. Weasley was extremely pleased to see that he had left his room behind. Clary was becoming more accustomed to Hermione's patient presence, so different from Isabelle's fiery temper, and enjoyed sitting with her and learning spells. Ginny joined them too, and she proved both funny and smart, and she had a glowing personality. It was a relief in some ways, Clary had to admit, to be away from the shadowhunters. There had been something about their lifestyle, so critical and so vital, that made Clary feel like she was running a thousand miles a minute. Here, though there was still the tense undercurrent that was Lord Voldemort, there were also more moments of laughter, more funny stories, more fond memories, untainted by darkness.

On the last night at Grimmauld Place, Mrs. Weasley made a huge feast in honor of their departure, and there seemed to be more people than usual around the table. It was loud and raucous, but a few weeks at Grimmauld place had helped both Clary and Jace adjust, and they didn't feel quite out of step in the conversation. Sirius, as usual, was fresh from field duty, and he had all the news, though Mrs. Weasley did her best to keep him quiet about it. Tonks, too, who still worked for the Ministry, had recent updates on Death Eaters, but the news was mostly grim, so she didn't say much. Mundugus was there and he had enough lively tales of theft and shifty deals to keep them occupied. Lupin had convinced Nathaniel to join them, and Madeline came as well, planting herself firmly by Tonks, who she seemed to like. Nathaniel was mostly quiet, but his face didn't have the glower look they had all come to associate with. Midway through dinner, Fred and George arrived, and they brought a crate of Filibuster's fireworks with them. Mrs. Weasley served them all mugs of hot chocolate and they watched while the magical fireworks bounced around the room.

"It's kind of amazing, isn't it?" Clary asked softly, barely an inch from Jace's ear. "The magic, I mean."

Jace sipped his chocolate and wished fiercely it tasted awful, just so he wouldn't feel like such a traitor. But the chocolate was just too good. "I'm a little surprised, I'll admit. I never thought stuff like this could exist."

"I don't know if I'm happy we came," Clary admitted, thinking of the friends and family she left behind. "My mom is still sick, and Luke is alone now, and Simon…" She trailed off. She and Simon had broken up not two days before she'd been pulled away into this new life, and she wondered where he was now, and how he was handling her absence. "Plus, Valentine is still out there, and it feels like we just left him for someone else to take care of."

Jace cringed a little. He didn't like to think he had left the problem of Valentine Morgenstern for others to deal with when he was capable. "We'll go back. When all this is over we'll definitely go back."

Clary brightened a little as one of the spinning pinwheels burst over her head and rained golden drops down on her. "Plus, we'll have magic. Valentine won't be expecting that."

"No," Jace agreed. "No, that's the last thing he'll expect."

As the fireworks faded away, Mrs. Weasley sent them off to bed. They ended up staying up later, sitting in the boys' room. Harry had heard of a few disappearances from Sirius, and wanted to discuss them, and Clary wanted a few last words of advice on spells from Hermione. When Mrs. Weasley came up an hour later, though, she broke up the small group, watching severely as the girls tripped down the hall to their room. Clary nervously crawled into bed, thinking of the next day when they'd head to Hogwarts. She'd never been to a private school before, and it had been many years since she'd been the _new kid_ anywhere. Her only solace was that she seemed to have a group of friends ready.

No sooner had she put her head down then it seemed Mrs. Weasley was back, banging on the door to wake them. Clary lurched awake and rubbed her eyes, glancing out the window and seeing the hazy red sun trying to push through the fog. She and the other girls dressed and then headed downstairs. The boys were already there.

"What do you reckon Dumbledore is going to teach you?" Ron asked around a piece of toast.

"Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry suggested. "Something to help me fight Voldemort."

"Like, in a duel?" Ron said, his face blank. "He wants you to duel You-Know-Who? He's off his rocker."

"I could teach you to fight," Jace offered thoughtlessly. "Simple stuff, since I don't really think you have the necessary skills for more advanced combat. But, maybe how to throw knives."

Harry grinned at Jace. "I don't really think running a knife through Voldemort is going to do the trick."

"It was a thought," he said dismissively.

"That's always Jace's thoughts," Clary sighed expressively. "Knives and who he can put them in."

"Excuse me," Jace said, pretending he was hurt, "but I'm not a one weapon kind of guy. I'm equally acceptable to swords, spears, electrum wire whips, and crossbows."

"Well, like I said," Harry chuckled, "Dumbledore's got that sword."

"And does he lend it out?" Jace asked with great interest.

"Only to a _worthy _Gryffindor," Harry snickered. "You're going to have to prove you're deserving of the sword first."

"Is it going to be one of those weird, cult, homoerotic ceremonies that we never talk about, but after, I'm your best friend for life?" Jace wondered. Harry and Ron both choked on their breakfast with laughter as Mrs. Weasley came in and told them all to hurry and get their trunks downstairs.

The last morning in Grimmauld Place went quickly after that. A little last minute packing, and then everyone moved their trunks to the landing (Jace smirking, levitated his and Clary's) and waited for their escort to arrive. At ten o'clock, three Ministry cars arrived on the street, and the children piled out of the house, unseen to the escort until they were standing in front of them. Two men moved forward, their eyes on Harry, who rolled his own eyes expressively and allowed them to flank him to the car. Ron and Hermione slipped in with Harry while Clary, Jace, and Ginny took the next, and they were off, slipping in and out of London traffic like it didn't exist. At half past, they arrived at Kings Cross, and the Ministry escort loaded their trunks on trolleys and walked them all the way to the entrance.

"I appreciate the security, but I don't think Voldemort was going to spring a trap on me between the street and the door," Harry muttered under his breath, earning a snigger from Ron.

They made their way to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and Mrs. Weasley paired them up. "Ron, you go through with Jace, and Hermione, you take Clary. Sirius will go with you, Harry, and I'll take Ginny. Hurry now!"

Hermione spun her trolley around and gestured for Clary to do the same. "All you do is walk straight at the barrier. It's not really there, just a trick to the Muggle eye. Don't be nervous, though, or it won't work."

Clary thought of the time she had first seen the Institute, and imagined it the same way, wiping turpentine over a messy canvas. She inhaled sharply and followed Hermione's lead as she pushed her trolley swiftly toward the barrier. Jace craned his neck to watch Clary, but the moment she approached the barrier, she was suddenly gone.

He frowned. "We just walk at it?"

Ron nodded. "It fools Muggles, but if you know what you're looking at, it's there. I suppose it's like that for shadowhunters, too?"

Jace shrugged. "Where is the actual platform?"

"Behind the barrier," Ron said, and he spun his trunk around. "So, nice and brisk, if you're nervous."

Jace made a face at the idea of being nervous, and followed Ron. They came nearer and nearer to the barrier, and Jace thought, fleetingly, that it looked very solid. He leaned over the handle of his cart, braced himself, and put on an extra spurt of speed. His last glimpse was of the barrier, reflecting the artificial light and then he passed through it.

"Jace, look at this place," Clary said the moment he was through.

It was a huge room, wide and open, and the platform was full of students, milling around as the train issued streams of steam. Some of them were calling out to each other, catching up after a summer apart. Cats were mewling to each other and owls shrieking in response; Razz, upon seeing other owls, spread his wings and screeched. Clary pulled Jace aside to make room as Harry and the rest of Weasleys came through.

Their group was conspicuous, to say the least. Since their battle at the Ministry, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had become famous at Hogwarts. Sirius, whose picture had recently been all over the _Prophet _as a man the Ministry had wrongfully convicted, was something of a celebrity now, especially given his miraculous, and still unexplained, escape from Azkaban. This alone would have been enough to turn heads, but Harry's face had been in the _Prophet _enough that whispers of his fate as the "Chosen One" made their group all the more curious. They made their way through the platform amid whispered conversation.

"Everyone's staring," Clary mumbled.

"That's because I'm ridiculously attract-"

"Oh, shut up," Clary cut across Jace.

With the help of Sirius and Tonks, they managed to move everyone's trunks onto the train and then come back down onto the platform. Mrs. Weasley's eyes roved over the small group, and she thoughtlessly dusted Clary's shirt off of some soot from the train.

"Well, have a nice semester," she said, "and try to be careful."

"We always are," said Harry with a sly look over a Sirius.

"And try not to break any rules," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And you two," she added to Jace and Clary, "enjoy yourselves." Clary offered her a brave smile and Jace nodded.

"You'll see us around," said Sirius. "The Order posts guards around the school, so maybe one of the weekends we can all spend some time in Hogsmeade."

"Come watch a Quidditch game," Harry said. "You can sneak in as a dog."

"And bring Nathaniel," said Clary suddenly. "I think he and Madeline could use some company."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Clary like she was angel. "What a lovely idea." The train whistle sounded then and Mrs. Weasley started. "Hurry up, hurry on the train!"

They clambered back onto the train with a number of other students and felt the floor shiver as the train lurched into movement. Clary saw the crowd on the platform pass by as the train left the station. Nervously, she took Jace's hand and held on tightly.

_We left Grimmauld Place, went to King's Cross station, and are on a train to Hogwarts, _she thought, determined to trace her path back wherever it led.

"Listen, we've got to patrol the corridors for a little bit," Ron said, watching two second years rush past. "Grab a compartment and we'll be there soon."

Hermione and Ron left, and Harry turned to face Clary, Jace, and Ginny. "Let's just take this one," he said when he saw faces turned in his directed. "Ginny, you coming?"

"Meeting Dean," she called over her shoulder as she vanished through the train.

Harry paused a moment, realizing that he had become rather used to Ginny's company. He watched her go and then turned back around to face Jace and Clary. "So, this compartment?"

They settled in the seats and Harry tried to ignore the faces that were peeking through the glass.

"So, we just stay here?" Jace asked, glancing around the compartment. "I never thought you'd get to a magic school with a train."

Harry smiled across at him. "It's not too bad; there'll be a witch coming around later with candy and drinks."

Jace raised an eyebrow, but Clary said, "Can I send a letter to Luke now? Razz probably wants to stretch his wings, too."

Harry shrugged and Clary dug through her bag while Jace let Razz out. The owl screeched again and fluttered onto Jace's arm. Clary looked curiously over at Harry who took her letter and held it out; Razz clamped the letter in his beak, blinked his big eyes at Jace, and then took off through an open window.

"It might take him a while to get the response back," Harry said. "He has to fly across an ocean, after all."

"Are you sure he can find him?" Clary asked.

"Oh, yeah, he'll know where to go. Hedwig could find Sirius for me when he was in hiding." Harry was about to let Hedwig out, just so she could stretch, when there was a knock on the door and it slid open ever so slightly.

"Hi, Harry," said Neville. "Mind if we join you?"

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, and he scooted over so Neville and Luna could fit in. "Jace, Clary, this is Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Their friends of mine; they were with me last year when we went to fight Voldemort at the Ministry."

Neville eyed Jace and Clary nervously and glanced at Harry. "How was your summer, Harry?"

"Not bad, yours?"

Neville smiled shyly. "It was alright. Gran bought me a new wand." He pulled it out, showing it to Harry. "She's been really pleased all summer, ever since we went to the Ministry. But you should hear the way she talks about you! She said, _That Harry Potter, he's got more backbone than the whole Ministry._"

Harry suppressed a smile at the idea that Neville's formidable grandmother had been pleased with her grandson. He saw that Jace's eyes were resting on him, looking curious. "That's great. You, Luna? The _Quibbler_ still going strong?"

"Oh, yes," said Luna in her dreamy voice and then turned her protruding eyes on Jace. "Are you part veela?"

Jace looked startled at being addressed, and even more so by the girl with the large, grey eyes staring at him. "No," he said with a certainty that was almost comical.

Luna smiled serenely at him. "You _look _like you could be part veela."

"A veela?" Jace asked Harry, ignoring Luna's continued examination of him.

Harry was smiling. "They're like these siren things. You remember Bill Weasley and that woman with him? She's part veela."

"You don't know?" Neville asked, though when Jace turned his yellow eyes on him he seemed to lose his nerve.

"I know-"

"Jace and Clary are new here," Harry said, cutting across Jace before Neville irritated him. The last thing he wanted was for Jace to get in a fight before school started. "And they're not really…wizards."

Neville's eyes widened in surprise and Luna peered closer at both of them. "What are you then?" she asked bluntly.

"Shadowhunters," Jace said, surprised by both her directness and her lack of apprehension. He'd always considered himself something of an intimidating person.

"Really?" Her eyes widened even more and Jace glanced at Harry, who was laughing behind his hand. "And what do you _do_?"

"We fight demons," Jace said, and saw the boy called Neville's mouth fall open.

"And where do you find those?" Luna pressed, leaning forward. Jace noticed she was holding a magazine in her hands, but couldn't see the title, because hands were clenched over it. Tired of feeling like he was being examined, he said distractedly, "All over. What are you reading?"

"The _Quibbler_." She offered it to him. "My daddy's the editor."

He took it and he and Clary examined the cover. It said, in large bold writing, _The Quibbler. The Number One Wizarding World's Alternative Voice._ And beside it was a picture of a tall, sinister looking man with big yellow eyes, pushing a plump, round man off a podium. Jace handed it back.

"How interesting," said Clary civilly. "Who's that on the front cover?"

Luna examined it. "Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour. He's the new Minister of Magic. Daddy said he has an army of vampires he used to overthrow the Ministry in secret over the summer."

Harry snorted louder than before and Clary offered up a blank look. "Army of vampires?"

"Yes," Lune said with certainty. "But it's all very quiet."

"I can imagine," Jace said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Quiet as the grave." Neville tittered at that and smiled uncertainly at him.

After that, Luna retreated behind the covers of her magazine and Neville began to talk again. Jace was surprised to find that someone like Neville had braved Death Eaters with Harry; he didn't look like much of a fighter, but then, none of them did. Clary, who found Neville's excited face endearing, was happy to sit and listen until the door to their compartment opened again, and a girl stuck her head in. She didn't look familiar, and she had eyes only for Harry.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda Vane. Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with _them_." Here, her eyes roved over the assembled group, and she noticed Jace's handsome, dark scowl. "You both can."

Jace raised his eyebrows, but Harry responded. "These are my friends."

"And this is my girlfriend," Jace added with a smirk, seeing Clary's shocked face.

Romilda Vane looked surprised but then slipped out with one last glance at Harry. Luna watched her go, her face still politely blank.

"People think you should have cooler friends than us, Harry."

Harry grimaced at the statement. "You guys are cool. You were with me at the Ministry."

Neville squirmed a little and Jace wondered even more at the boy across from him. At that moment, though, Hermione and Ron entered the compartment arguing.

"…are not midgets, Ron," she was saying, and sounded fed up. "They're first years, and you should call them that."

"There's no way they're first years. We were never that scrawny when we started," he said, flopping down in the seat next to Neville.

Hermione managed to squeeze in between Clary and the door, scowling. "Hello Neville, Luna, how was your summer?"

Neville opened his mouth to respond but Ron spoke over him. "Harry, I didn't see Malfoy at all. He's locked himself up in his compartment with the rest of the sixth year Slytherins. What do you make of that?"

Harry sat up straighter. "That's odd. I would have thought Malfoy would love the chance to abuse his prefect power. Wonder what's so important he needs privacy for."

"Oh, probably just bragging about his summer," Hermione said carelessly.

Harry frowned, but at that moment that the door to their compartment opened again revealing a small, third year girl. Her eyes darted around the compartment, eyes resting a moment longer on Harry. "I'm supposed to give these to Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter," she said breathlessly.

Harry took his curiously, Neville nervously. "Thanks," Harry said thoughtlessly and the girl darted away with one last look at his face.

"Does everyone in this school think you're a celebrity?" Jace demanded.

Clary giggled. "Jace just isn't used to being ignored-especially by girls."

"Who are they from?" Ron demanded.

"Professor Slughorn," Harry said dully, still thinking about Malfoy. "Some lunch thing."

"Do we have to go?" Neville asked, worrying his lip.

"Can't hurt." Harry stood. "Let's go under the Cloak. Maybe we can catch Malfoy after." However, a quick glance out the door told Harry that it would be almost impossible to wear the Cloak and not knock into someone. Resigned, he stowed it back in his bag and gestured out the door to Neville.

Clary and Jace watched Harry leave, and the compartment seemed empty. _Go on, make friends, _Clary ordered herself. She smiled at Luna openly. "What are those things you've got there?"

"Spectrespecs." She placed the pair of large, multicolored paper glasses on her face. It gave Clary the distinct impression of being observed by a lunatic. "They make wrackspurts visible." At the blank looks on both Clary and Jace's faces, she said, "They float in your ears and make your brain go fuzzy for a bit."

Clary saw Ron's face going slightly red from trying not to laugh, and Hermione determinedly reading a book. "That's…interesting," she said politely.

"Yes, the only way to get rid of them is a wrackspurt siphon. Daddy's building one now, but it won't be done for a while yet. I guess I'll just have to suffer with them." Luna said knowledgeably.

As Luna went back to reading Jace leaned back, his face the picture of incomprehension. "_That_ explains a lot."


	14. The Welcome Feast

The Welcome Feast

_It is our choices that show us what we truly are, far more than out abilities._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

The sky grew darker and the train was slowing down. At least, that was what Jace thought. He nudged Clary, who had been carefully reading a book for one of their classes and she glanced out. The country had become wild and dark, and all she saw were trees and bushes and unruly hillsides. Hermione must have seen what they were looking at too, because she rose up and pulled down her pack.

"We'll be arriving soon. I suggest you put your robes on," she said. Ron rose awkwardly and gestured Jace out while the three girls changed. While the boys changed, Hermione inspected Clary one last time, and she smiled, straightening her robe. "You'll love it here, I promise."

Clary thought she sounded a little desperate, as if she wanted to believe it herself, but she just nodded her head in return and joined the boys in their compartment. As always, Clary thought bitterly, it didn't really matter what Jace wore, he always looked handsome; and now was no exception, the red and gold of Gryffindor only made his hair and eyes gleam more yellow.

Ron looked around as the train came to a stop. "Where's Harry?" he wondered. "You don't still think him and Neville are with that Slughorn, do you?"

Jace glanced up. "We should look for him. I'm sure no one wants the famous Harry Potter to go missing." He had meant it lightly, but there was no mistaking the nervous look Ron and Hermione shared.

"We haven't got time," said Hermione anxiously. "Ron and I have to be inside…"

"Take Clary, and I'll catch up," Jace said suddenly. Clary noticed that he pocketed his stele, and when the others raised their eyebrows, he said, "Trust me. It's a single train, how long can it take to check?"

"Jace," Clary said, a warning note, but he merely smiled his usual crooked smile, kissed her swiftly, and then slipped out the door. "I really hate when he does that," she said to no one in particular.

Jace set off at once, listening carefully for Harry's voice. A few people turned about to stare at him, clearly, in a school their size, new faces were noticeable, but Jace hardly cared. He twisted and turned through the crowded halls with ease, came to one end, and then turned about for the other. He was beginning to wonder if Harry had gotten off and he was wasting time when he saw a group of figures leaving the train. They were dressed in silver and green, and a few of them had the same look as the boy who had taunted Clary in the robe shop. A little of their conversation drifted over to him.

"…think Malfoy's lying, Pansy?"

"He sounded serious," said the girl. "And besides, his father was working for Him. I mean, if you believe the _Prophet_."

"Still, it's a bit far-fetched. Wonder what's taking him so long…"

Jace didn't need to hear anymore. He recalled Harry preoccupation with Malfoy and waited for the group to leave before hurrying the way they had come. He came to a compartment with the curtain drawn over the window. Smoothly, he removed his stele and drew a choice rune on the door. He was unsurprised to see Malfoy and Harry, though Harry was lying on the floor and looked as if he was frozen there. His hand moved to the door knob, but at that moment, the Malfoy boy brought his foot down on Harry's nose, effectively breaking it.

A usual anger flared up in Jace at the sight of someone he counted a friend being hurt, and he threw the door open. Malfoy jumped back, wand raised, but Jace had already thrown the stele, and it sailed through the air with haunting precision to lodge itself in wall to the right of Malfoy's head. Malfoy flicked his wand, Jace ducked, dodged the stunning spell, and launched himself at Malfoy. His speed clearly startled the other boy who raised his wand higher still, frantically thinking of a spell.

Jace caught his wrist and jerked it aside. "Not the smartest thing to do, but I'm beginning to think nothing you do is really that smart." Desperate, Malfoy tried to punch Jace; Jace merely dodged, caught his other free hand, and twisted him around against the wall. "And yet, you prove me wrong again," he sneered. He kneed Malfoy rather painfully in the back and tossed him aside.

Malfoy didn't stick around to try his hand again; he fled from the room, his feet pounding on the train floor as he rushed to catch up with his friends. Jace yanked the stele out of the wall and admired it before tucking it back in his robe. Harry was still motionless on the floor, and Jace, after staring a moment, pulled out his wand dubiously and prodded Harry with it, thinking of the spell Hermione had mentioned earlier that month. As if on command, Harry sprang to life.

"Bloody hell," he said, wiping the blood off his nose. "Is that how all you fight?"

Jace pulled Harry up. "Not really. You all right? Your nose is broken."

Harry collected his cloak and shrugged. "I'll get someone to fix it once we're at the castle. How did you find me?" Harry asked as they left the compartment and the train. The platform was mostly empty, just a few stragglers behind, and Harry managed to flag down the last carriage. Jace paused a moment to look at the strange, skeletal creatures pulling the carriages, but Harry shrugged, saying, "They're harmless." And then climbed in.

"There's only so many places you could have been, and I remembered you complaining about Malfoy, so I looked for him." Jace leaned forward to get a look around him, wondering if there would be any way of telling the Lightwoods where he was. All he saw was a dark, dirt road, flanked on both sides by trees. "Where's the school?"

"You'll see it in a moment," Harry said, still admiring Jace's swift action that very nearly saved him. "We'll go around a bend and-" Harry broke off as Hogwarts castle came into view, perched on a mountain side before the flat, black lake.

Jace drew in a sharp breath. The castle looked like it had been pulled out of some old story, its many turrets and towers stretching up against the star speckled sky. Before it, he saw a smooth black lake, and a fleet of tiny ships sailing across lazily. All around him were snow capped mountains and he was reminded of the secrecy of Idris, but somehow, this was different; certainly, the castle was hidden from Mundane eyes, but that was all. There were no barriers that separated this world from the one around it, no sense of protection; it was just one ancient castle, glorious in its indifference.

_How could the Clave miss this?_ he wondered. "How often do people get lost in there?" Jace joked.

"It's not too bad after the first few weeks. I mean, it's a pain with the people in the paintings moving, and the doors aren't always doors, and some staircases lead different places on different days, but you'll have us to help, so you won't get lost." Harry thought a moment. "And watch out for Peeves."

Jace raised one eyebrow in question but didn't have time to answer as their carriage came to a sudden stop and Harry threw the door open. They both landed lightly and joined the crowd thronging up toward the large, open double doors. As before, a number of heads turned in their direction, mostly to stare at Harry who was covered in his own blood, but he just pushed past them and into the entrance hall. Jace followed him, searching for the familiar red head of Clary, but she must have been in the great hall, because Jace didn't see her. They both pushed their way into the hall and Jace checked on the spot.

It was a vast room that seemed to glow with golden light. Large leaded windows looked out on the dark grounds, and Jace strained to catch sight of the stars, usually hidden in New York. He saw small lights winking back at him and his eyes traveled up the windows, now searching for the moon, until he noticed the ceiling. For a moment, he thought there was no ceiling and the hall simply opened up to the heavens, but he narrowed his gaze and spotted, as thought cunningly disguised, the beams and rafters of the room. He also saw the thousands of candles that floated in midair, dappling the students below with their light.

"There they are," said Harry, pointing, and Jace saw Ron, Hermione, and Clary seated at a noisy, crowded table. They passed through the press of students and down the line until they joined the others. Harry took a seat between Ron and Hermione and Jace sat beside Clary.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said at once, flicking her wand and siphoning the blood of his robes. She flicked it again and his nose popped back into place with an unpleasant sound. "What took you so long?"

"Malfoy," Harry said gruffly, and nodded at Jace. "But Jace found me. It's alright."

"We wondered if you'd been hurt," said Clary across Jace, but she didn't bother to listen to the response. She'd noticed that many people were staring at her, whispering behind their hands, and she flushed and looked down. "People are staring at us," she said mulishly to Jace.

He was still glancing around, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. He noticed the head table, and Dumbledore, who seemed to sense his gaze and looked toward him. Jace looked away quickly, eyeing another teacher at the head table, whose black, greasy hair fell in his face.

"Who's the looker there?" Jace asked and Harry and Ron both snorted.

"That's Snape," Harry said darkly. "He's the Potions Master, and head of Slytherin House."

"He hates Harry," added Ron, mostly for Harry's benefit.

"You think all those years making potions and he might be able to mix up a shampoo for himself," Jace commented wryly.

A burst of loud laughter drew his attention. Two boys had just sat opposite them, Ginny holding the hands of one. "Hey, Harry, Ron, Hermione. Good summer?"

"Hello, Dean," Harry said, since Ron looked like he'd suddenly swallowed a bug. "Nothing to complain about. Yours?"

"Same, I guess," he shrugged and then his eyes wandered to Jace and Clary. "Ginny mentioned some new students. I didn't know Hogwarts did that."

Clary caught the look on Ginny's face. "We're from the United States."

"Brilliant," said the other boy, and he smiled a bit broader at Clary than necessary. "I'm Seamus, by the way. We were both a bit worried you'd be from a country that didn't speak English. Back in our fourth year, there was a group from a school in France."

Clary shrugged. "I only speak English, but I think Jace can speak…" She looked at him curiously. "A lot."

Seamus looked at Jace, who was watching him with bright eyes, and held out his hand. "You're Jace?"

"Jace Lightwood," he said stiffly, but the other boy smiled again, and Jace realized he was not only being polite, but rather friendly, especially given he didn't know Jace at all. He wondered if this was just on principle since Jace was a Gryffindor. "I'm from New York."

"Nice to have you in Gryffindor then," he said, and then held out his hand to Clary. "Didn't catch your name."

"Clary," she said, "Clary…Black."

"Black?" Dean asked, looking around at Harry. "Not like Sirius Black? He's been all over the papers."

"Yep," said Harry, not wanting to delve very deep into Clary and Jace's presence here. "He's looking after them while they're here."

"Step siblings?" Dean asked, but Ginny quickly drew his attention away by whispering something to him.

"Yeah," said Harry, winking at Jace.

"Suppose that makes you her brother," Seamus said, giving him a winning smile and Harry chuckled suddenly. "Best tell all the guys to be careful around this one."

Ron seemed to have found his voice, but he sounded choked. "Well, brothers do have to look out for their sisters."

Ginny shot him a nasty look, and pulled Dead away. Seamus chuckled, nodded at them, and then headed off down the table.

Ron was furious. "I can't believe she's dating him. He's a git…"

Harry and Hermione managed to avoid conversation by the arrival of the incoming first years and the Sorting Hat. Clary, curious about the ceremony, watched while Professor McGonagall placed the Hat on the stool and read out the names of the students. One by one they were Sorted into their houses, and Clary, feeling she might as well do the thing properly, clapped politely along with the rest of the school. As those students went to their seats and Professor McGonagall took the Hat away, and the feast began.

The plates before them were suddenly full of food and Clary had to blink once before she realized it was not just some crazy illusion but actual food. She glanced at Jace to see how he was taking it, and she saw his face carefully blank. He clearly hadn't been expecting the food to materialize out of thin air. However, Hermione, Ron, and Harry, were helping themselves to dinner, so she cautiously spooned potatoes onto her plate.

They ate for a while, Clary and Jace kept quiet while the room around them burst into noise. Clary felt as if she had been transported back to her high school cafeteria, but every now and then, she would look up, see a ghost, or the ceiling, or listen to the talk of the students, and would feel like her stomach dropped out of her. Jace began by picking his food suspiciously, but after tasting it, helped himself to more. He'd never lived in a place with so many people so close together, and it was slightly disconcerting; with a pang of regret, he realized he missed quiet dinner with Isabelle and Alec. He tried to listen to the conversation, just to feel a little more even-footed with the students, but they were talking about things Jace had no interest in: summer vacation, Quidditch, new classes, the latest news on the war. Jace had never lived among children, at least not in the sense that his fellow students were. They were allowed to be careless and frivolous, shadowhunters were not. Obstinately, he poked his food and wished it would taste bad so he could complain. Unfortunately, the food remained defiant and delicious.

Harry was busy filling in the others on the bragging conversation he'd overheard from Malfoy. Hermione still seemed doubtful but Ron was shaking his head in agreement.

"Do you _really think_ Voldemort wants an underage wizard? Harry, what exactly can Malfoy _do_ to help him?" she asked quietly. "He was probably just bragging to impress everyone."

"I don't think people brag about joining up with You-Know-Who," said Ron. "Bit big-headed, don't you think?"

Hermione rolled her eyes just in time for Hagrid to enter the hall and have Clary tweak her sleeve.

"Who's that?" Clary asked, staring at the huge, bearded man.

"That's just Hagrid," she said indifferently. "He's a good friend of ours, actually. He's in the Order, too. I'm sure he'll want to meet you two."

"Why's he so big?" Jace asked bluntly.

Hermione leaned closer so no one could hear. "He's part giant. It's not really a bad thing, but _some_ _people_ are distrustful of giants, so he doesn't talk about it much. But he's a really great person, and he's a professor here, too. Care of Magical Creatures."

Jace nodded thoughtfully. He knew what it was like to have a distasteful family member. On that thought, he turned suddenly to Clary. "Why did you introduce yourself as Black?" Harry glanced over, curious himself.

"Well, what if people knew who Valentine is? I'm sure anyone who studies history will hear his name at least once." Hermione nodded in agreement. "I just figured it'd be safer not to mention anything about shadowhunters."

"Why not Fray or Fairchild?" he pressed.

Clary flinched away from the name. It was her mother's name, and the thought of her mother was almost too painful to bear. It was easier in some ways to just push all that aside for now and focus solely on the situation at hand. "Well, he _did_ adopt us, so I thought it might be better to go with the disguise."

Jace perceived the pain in Clary's voice and didn't press her further. After a short while, the food vanished and Dumbledore stood, his hands spread before him.

"To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you." Dumbledore beamed upon the assembled students, his eyes managing to find Jace and Clary in crowd.

"What happened to his hand?" Hermione asked sharply, and they all looked.

"It was like that earlier this summer," Harry said softly, aware that other people were trying to listen in.

"It looks like it died," said Ron, frowning.

"Or cursed," said Jace ruminatively. "He was wearing gloves when we saw him, or I would have asked."

"I would like to introduce our new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn."

"Potions?" Ron said sharply. "Harry, I thought you said he was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

"I thought he was," Harry said blinkly, staring at Dumbledore. "Then who-"

"And, have the pleasure of announcing that Professor Snape has agreed to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." Dumbledore's words were met with a mixture of confused stares and furious outrage.

"No!" Harry said, not bothering with who heard him. "They can't let him teach. He's practically a Death Eater himself."

"Harry!" Hermione said loudly.

"I don't care," Harry said childishly. "He's a git. The only thing good that will come out of this is that he won't be here next year."

"What do you mean?" Jace asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts job is jinxed," Ron said, nodding in agreement with Harry. "No one lasted more than a year. A few have died."

"Something to hope for," Harry said darkly, and Hermione swatted at him and then tried to turn the conversation back to Dumbledore's hand while the headmaster continued to speak.

"…I can not emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to remain safe."

"It certainly looks cursed," she mused. "But I don't know what could have done that. Or what could have been so powerful he couldn't heal it himself."

"Maybe he was in a fight with Death Eaters," Ron ventured.

"Oh, come on, Ron. No Death Eater has _that_ _big_ of a death wish," Harry said, smirking.

"Then maybe it has something to do with what he needs to teach you," Hermione said. "Maybe he was injured."

"By Voldemort, you mean?" Harry asked sardonically. "I think it'd be in the papers if Dumbledore and Voldemort dueled."

"I'm just saying-"

"Right," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Off to bed, pip pip!"

The dismissal was followed by the scraping of chairs, and Harry nodded to Jace and Clary to follow them, while Ron and Hermione found the first years and led the way. They took many turns and twists, and Clary noted that the figures in the paintings moved just as the one of Mrs. Black had, and she wondered if there was a way she could get her drawings to move. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry said, "Tapeworm," and the portrait swung forward.

Clary and Jace were both immediately impressed by the proportions of the room, the comfortable looking armchairs, and the fire blazing in the hearth. Many students made room for them as Harry entered, and they entertained quite a lot of stares and whispers. Hermione and Ron joined them swiftly.

"Everyone wants to know who you two are," Ron said at once. "Might want to keep the shadowhunter business quiet as long as you can, mind, Malfoy knows, so it might be all over the school soon."

Clary felt eyes on the back of her head and the hairs on her neck prickled uncomfortably. "Well, what are we supposed to do?"

"Ignore it," said Hermione. "Ginny told Dean and Seamus you're exchange students, so just stick to that story as long as you can. The professors know, of course, but they're not likely to gossip."

Again, Clary felt as if she had been tossed back into Mundane high school. She took Jace's hand tightly in her own. "I think I'd take a demon over curious teenager any day," she said, to the general laughter of everyone around her.

They stayed up late that night, taking prime seats by the fire and relaxing in its flickering glow. A number of people came forward, wanting to stare at Harry and curious for a look at the new students. Clary noted dourly that not a few girls came up to introduce themselves to Jace, and he made a point of telling Dean that he was dating Clary with the hope it would get around. Clary doubted it would matter, but Jace noted wryly that a few of the boys who were eyeing Clary glowered in his direction.

Slowly the crowd petered off and soon it was just the sixth and seventh years left. Harry turned the talk to his upcoming lessons with Dumbledore, and Ron wondered what he'd be learning and if it would be useful in a duel. Hermione vanished for a few minutes only to return with her knitting, which she set to at once. Clary, though, was feeling anxious and couldn't calm down; after a time, she went and found parchment and some pencils to draw with.

Clary leaned back against Jace's legs and began to trace the interior of the great hall. She closed her eyes, thinking of the four long tables, the invisible ceiling, the floating candles, and the many students. It was certainly the most interesting place she had ever visited. As she worked, it grew later and later, and her body started relax little by little. When the last of the students wandered off to bed, it finally hit Clary.

_You're at a magical school to learn witchcraft. _She straightened up, blinking at her own surprise. _I'm going to be a witch._ Clary looked down at her drawing and realized she had drawn herself and Jace quite clearly at one of the tables. She smiled despite herself.

"Well, I'm for bed," Harry finally said, stretching. Ron nodded, joining him. "You coming, Jace?"

"I think I'll stay up a little later," he hedged, glancing around the room. In truth, he just wanted a little time away from other people, and was tired of spending all his time with Harry and Ron. "I'll be up soon."

"Don't stay up too late," Hermione warned. "It's an early start tomorrow."

"We'll be fine," Clary shrugged. "There's actually a rune to make us more awake if we need it."

"That's completely unfair," Ron said simply. "I have to struggle to stay awake through classes and you just mark yourselves up and you're good to go. I'm starting to think I'd rather be a shadowhunter."

Jace smirked. "You come to me when you think you're ready for it."

"On second thought," said Ron, returning the smirk, "I'd rather keep the magic. Can't say I particularly enjoy the all black look. Bit dour, if you know what I mean. People might think I'm weird."

Clary snorted and Jace made a rude gesture that Harry laughed at. Once they had left, Jace leaned down, wrapped his arms around Clary, and pulled her up onto his lap. He kissed her hair once then lifted her chin up so he could kiss her firmly on the mouth. Her lips tasted like pumpkin.

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" Clary asked, trying to keep a serious conversation but failing as he began kissing her neck. "Nice food. Good classmates?"

"I can do without the stupid talking paintings," Jace commented, biting down on the tender skin at the junction between neck and shoulder.

"Someone's just being bitter I think," Clary teased. "Admit it, you like it."

Jace paused in kissing her, toying with the collar of her shirt. "Maybe. I can't help feeling like I'm…doing something wrong."

Clary turned to face him. Jace was rarely so candid, and she was surprised to see his face dark with thought. "You've done nothing wrong, Jace."

"Haven't I? I left my family, my duty, and I came here to hide. I'm learning _magic, _Clary, and that's not something shadowhunters are meant to do. I'm breaking the law."

"You didn't hide," Clary said sternly, and she forced Jace to look her in the eye. "You came here to protect your family. There's nothing wrong with wanting to protect the people you love."

Jace looked at her unwillingly. "Valentine always said-"

"I don't give a damn what Valentine said, Jace," Clary said passionately. "He was wrong. Everything he did and said was wrong. You're not a bad person for not fighting."

Jace sighed heavily, resting his head against Clary's. "Valentine hid," he said softly. "He ran away."

"He ran away because he was scared," Clary said dismissively. "You came here because you were brave. Don't you understand that, Jace? There is a difference, and it's important, and I'm not going to let you think you've done something wrong when you've been saving lives." When Jace didn't respond, Clary pinched his arm. "Jace."

He smiled haplessly at her. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, Clary."

She gestured around. "I'm starting to understand these people, and I think they're on to something, Jace. And I've noticed that not a lot of them are fearless, brilliant warriors. I mean, look at Harry's friend Neville. Did he seem like the type of kid to throw himself in the path of the most dangerous wizard of all time?" She laughed. "He went with them because it was the right thing to do."

"It's different for them," Jace said tonelessly.

"No, it's not." Jace cupped his face in her hands and smiled at him sadly. "They fight for the people they love, and somehow, it gives them the strength they need to win. Sometimes, I think the shadowhunters need that."

Jace eyed her closely. "I love you," he murmured softly. When Clary froze, her placed his hands on her wrists and pulled her hands down to hold them in his lap. "I do. From the moment I saw you, I loved you, and I thought you were the bravest person I knew. And now, I know you're the bravest person I know." He looked down. "I don't think I could have come here without you."

Clary stared at her hands, trying to think of something to say that would make Jace understand just how much she cared for him. Something that would make him realize there was nothing to be ashamed of by loving someone. "I'd go anywhere you went," she said, curling her hands around his. "I'd follow you anywhere, no matter where you wanted to go. I won't you leave."

She watched Jace's shoulders relax and knew she'd said the right thing. "Thank you," he said, and then kissed her, slowly and deeply. Kissed her completely, kissed her until he knew she was there and she was his and she didn't care what he thought of himself. Because she loved him.


	15. First Day

**I hope you guys like it. There's a little bit of magic this time, and it promises to be fun!**

First Day

_I've always thought Fred and I should've got an "E" in everything because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for exams._

_-George Weasley_

Alec was waiting apprehensively, sporadically cracking his knuckles while Isabelle helped Max pack; he was supposed to be keeping watch, in case his parents came up to check on them, but he was thinking more about what he was about to do and less about what might happen. It was no small thing, to completely disobey his parents. They were, after all, the head of the New York Institute, and, since he was technically an adult, he was subject to the strict rank of command observed by the shadowhunters. He doubted his parents would severely punish him if he ran off, but he was taking his siblings with him.

_Magnus wouldn't tell you to run unless he meant it. Whatever this is, we don't want to be here when they come. _Alec took a little solace in his justification, but he couldn't quite forget the look on his parents' faces earlier that day when they'd been caught. _It doesn't matter how angry they are, this is your life, and Isabelle and Max's lives, and you're not going to risk them because your parents are too stubborn._

_Besides, _the small voice said, _what would Jace do?_

Alec knew without thinking exactly what Jace would do. He'd practically done it already. Jace had known the people he loved were in danger, so he'd left before the hammer could fall any harder on them. Now, Alec was taking Isabelle and Max away before they were hurt.

"Izzy, hurry up," Alec said pragmatically.

Her head stuck out of Max's door, her eyes narrowed to irritated slits. "I'm _trying_, but Max wants to take his comics with him."

"He _what_?" Alec hissed, and, abandoning his post, rushed into his brother's room. "Max, forget the comics! We're going into hiding, we're going to be doing some serious reconnaissance; you'll be plenty busy enough without those."

Max dropped the book he was holding. "I get to help?"

"If you can keep your wits about you," Alec said sharply, gesturing pointedly at all the comics, "which, judging off this moment, doesn't seem too good."

"Sorry," Max said and scrambled to collect the last bits of clothes he'd need. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and stood before Alec, looking like a toy soldier. "I'm ready now."

Alec led Max and Isabelle stealthily down the hall. He had already checked, and both his parents were in the library, and they crept past that door with care, making no more noise than shadows rustling in the darkness. They took the stairs to the main entrance hall, and Alec carried Max in case his pack thumped on the steps due to Max's short height. Isabelle creaked the gates open and the three slipped into the elevator and were suddenly heading down.

"We're going to Luke's," Alec said when the doors opened in the church. "Magnus talked to him, and he's more than willing to keep us there."

"We're staying with the werewolf pack?" Max asked, his eyes gleaming.

"Just until we can work out how much danger we're in." Alec paused on the threshold of the church, wondering if it was already too late. What if that werewolf man had returned? What if he'd brought company? Alec, however, didn't sense anything, and he led them toward the street. "If there's an attack on the Institute, Magnus thinks it will come soon. We don't want to be here if those people show up, so we'll stay in hiding until they come out in the open."

"What if they don't?" Isabelle asked. "We can't stay with the werewolves forever."

"I'm thinking Magnus might be a bit more willing to help us find Hogwarts now that there's a definite threat in the city." Alec hoped he was, at least. "If not, our parents are still planning to go to Idris is a few weeks, and we can ask Magnus to make us a portal there."

Isabelle smiled slyly. "I guess it depends which come first : Valentine's attack or these wizards."

"Personally, I'm hoping for the former," Alec said as he waved a taxi down. "At least we know where we stand with Valentine, and we know what he wants. I haven't got the slightest clue what this Voldemort wants."

Max was seated between his brother and sister, and unhappy for it. He wanted to see the city and he pushed against Alec's leg. "Well, at least something's finally happening. It's so _boring_, being stuck at home all day."

"You and Isabelle," Alec said in disgust while Isabelle patted her brother's head for his favorable attitude. "Let's just get out of range of those warlocks for a time."

The cab made its steady way to the werewolf pack's base, and Alec tossed some money at the driver before hurrying his brother and sister across the cracked pavement and up to the front door. Alec felt a little of the tension drain out of him when he saw no one moving in the shadows, and was doubly grateful when Luke opened the door and ushered them in. He caught a bit of Alec's tension and sniffed the air delicately before closing the door and locking it.

The abandoned police station was stuffy, and smelled of decay and mold, but Alec couldn't cared less. He allowed Luke to lead them to the back, where an office that had once belonged to the chief of police had been sectioned off as his. He gestured them to sit before speaking.

"What's got Magnus in such a bad mood? He called me, told me you needed a place to lie low at, and then hung up." Luke searched each of their faces, and Isabelle looked away, unable to continence such kind curiosity. "Not that I'm not inclined to help you, but…I thought when Clary and Jace left, some of the trouble went with them?"

"So did we," said Alec uncomfortably. "We went over to Magnus' and on the way back, something attacked us."

"Something?" Luke leaned a bit closer.

"A warlock and a werewolf," said Isabelle. "And the magic he used wasn't what we're used to. He got the better of us." Isabelle sounded most disappointed about this. "He was using a wand, and he said he had come looking for Jace, but if he was gone, he'd take us too."

Something like regret flickered across Luke's eyes, but he only said, "I see," and let them continue.

"Magnus arrived and w managed to get back to his place, but he said man would come back for us," Alec continued. "That's why he called you. He said we weren't safe at the Institute anymore and should go somewhere they wouldn't know to look."

Luke smiled ironically at his dismal command post. "Well, I hardly doubt they will look here."

"We got back to the Institute as soon as the sun was up, but our parents were furious we'd left after they told us not to. They said we should have known better, going out when Valentine was looking for us, and we just had to wait until we went to Idris," Alec said, his voice a bit sharp. "That thing wasn't a servant of Valentine, and I know it."

Luke leaned back a moment, then rose and circled the room, thinking. After a while, he said, "No, that thing was a werewolf alright, and not the usual kind, if it was using a wand."

"Magnus called him Fenrir Greyback," Isabelle said helpfully. "She said he was a Death Eater, whatever those are."

"They are Voldemort's servants, and I've heard of Greybeck," Luke said darkly. "He's not the sort of werewolf most people associate, but he has a reputation."

"But he's not a werewolf," Alec pressed. "Not like you."

"No," agreed Luke. "He's an Old World werewolf, the kind you hear about in stories Mundanes tell their children. Different breed, if you will. My kind is referred to as New World werewolves." Luke sighed, his thoughts somewhere different, and said suddenly, "Do your parents know you're here?"

The guilty expression on their faces was enough to let Luke know the answer, but he didn't seem angry.

"We wanted them to come," Alec said desperately, "but they were so sure we were just imagining things. And I know Magnus might joke around, but I can tell when he's serious, and he was serious about us getting out of there. We snuck out. I expect they'll call as soon as they notice all three of us are gone."

"I expect they will," Luke said, flashing a mischievous grin. "But it doesn't matter. As long as you think it's best to remain here, I certainly won't throw you out. Do you have any plans?"

Isabelle and Alec shared a look. "We thought," said Alec carefully, "we might go back and check on the Institute once a day, to see if they do attack. If not, when my parents go to Idris, we'll ask Magnus to draw us a portal as well. In the mean time, we'd like to keep looking for Jace and Clary."

"Looking for them?" Luke asked abruptly. "We know where they went: Hogwarts. Why are you looking for them?"

"Looking for the school," Isabelle said swiftly. "We'd like to find them, join them, maybe."

Luke smiled sadly. "Hogwarts is very well hidden."

"I think it's still worth looking in to," Isabelle said huffily.

"Didn't you consider that Jace and Clary might be safer at the school?" Luke asked delicately.

"It doesn't matter if they're safer," Alec cut across quickly. "It matters that we're there with them. And, besides, Voldemort isn't going to erase the fact that Valentine is still looking for them. Jace and Clary will have to come back to us eventually."

Luke seemed to waver on the point, but didn't push it. His knowledge of the secret magical community to which Jace and Clary had so recently become a part of was limited, but he'd heard enough terrified whispers of Voldemort and his Death Eaters to know there was more to this than a scrimmage between opposing warlocks. "They do have to come back, and I'm sure they will, but it's a matter of when. If our war with Valentine is resolved before then, it won't due to have you three running after them."

Isabelle flushed at Luke's phrasing. "We're not _running after_ _them_, we're trying to help."

"Shadowhunters tried to help in the last attack and it didn't advance the cause very much." Luke saw the Lightwoods were ready for an argument and held up his hands. "Let's just not worry so much about Jace and Clary right now. Wherever they are, we can assume they're being well-cared for and protected. I think we should just focus on the situation at hand."

Isabelle seemed more than ready to argue the point, but Alec nudged her with his knee. "We'll wait and see how the Institute holds up. With any luck, these warlocks will leave it alone once they realize we're not there. We don't have to make any decisions until our parents go to Idris."

Luke nodded his head contemplatively. "A few weeks, at the most. Yes, alright." He rose up and they joined them. "There's not exactly sleeping quarters that are open, so I hope you don't mind if I put you in some cells. They have beds," he added, seeing Isabelle's face. Luke led them to the empty holding cells and rummaged around for blankets.

Isabelle eyed her new accommodations with disdain. The bed was a single bunk, pushed against the wall, and there was crude graffiti all over the walls. In a momentary fit of rage, she kicked the waste basket that was flipped upside down. It rattled across the floor, fetching up against her bed, echoing mockingly.

* * *

"Hurry, or we're going to be late," Hermione said, dragging Clary along through the crowded corridors. "And try to remember the way to class in case I'm too busy to show you next time."

"Right," said Clary, stumbling a little as they mounted a flight of already moving stairs.

Clary and Jace's first day was shaping up to be exactly what Clary had feared. It had been a long time since she'd been the "new kid" and it didn't improve the day. People stared at her, whispered about her, some even laughed-though Hermione assured her they were the Slytherins and laughed at everyone. She felt as if she had suddenly intruded on a very private, very exclusive gathering, one where everyone knew everyone else, and she was the odd one out.

_Of course, they've all been in school together since they were eleven. You're kind of the third wheel, _she thought as Hermione hurried along a passage where a suit of armor was chatting with a woman in a painting. She was reminded forcefully of her introduction to the shadowhunter world and grimaced. _Just like last time._

And it was true. Clary had stepped right into a school where everyone had known everyone else since childhood, and it made painfully obvious how different she was. This wasn't helped by the fact she was small for her age and red-haired, or by the fact that she obviously had never set foot in the castle and had no idea where anything was.

This had proven most problematic. As soon as she had woken, Hermione had rushed her down to the great hall where the students all had breakfast together. She'd been allowed a few bites of a very tasty breakfast when owls began streaming into the hall. Clary jumped out of her seat, accidently spraying Harry, who was sitting across from her, with hash browns; he'd laughed and flicked his wand over his soiled shirt, but she was blushing furiously. As soon as the first bell rang, their group departed the hall and headed for class, but try as she might, Clary couldn't seem to remember how they'd gone. They had taken stairs, but Ron had carelessly told them that particular staircase only worked on Tuesday, Thursday, and alternate Fridays. Harry had taken them through a secret passage being a statue of armor, but the armor had promptly walked off, scandalized that Harry had been trying to sneak behind his rear. The people in the paintings moved. The halls were full of chattering students too busy to help her. Most of the ghosts were too concerned with Peeves' latest pranks to offer much guidance. And worst of all, was Filch, who, upon seeing Clary and Jace, had immediately pounced on them, sure they were spies; only quick action on Professor McGonagall's part had spared them all detention.

Perhaps what was worst, though, for Clary at least, was not having Simon. She was sure that no matter how awful her first day was, it would have been exponentially more bearable if Simon had been with her, always wearing that sarcastic grin, always ready with a quip. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were especially good friends, but she still missed Simon fiercely.

_Still, it could be worse. _She glanced at Jace and counted herself lucky.

Jace had spent his early childhood in a secluded manor house, and the rest of his life with the Lightwoods; he had never been forced to navigate anything quite so mundane as a school full of chatty students. He was fortunate enough to rely on his good looks and, simultaneously, hostile smirks to get him past the students, but Clary could tell the castle's extraordinary, frankly, whacky, interior was starting to annoy him. He'd gotten his foot stuck in a trick step and had had to be pulled out by Ron and Harry. She smiled apologetically at him, but his mood didn't improve when a ghost Harry called Peeves, had zoomed out of wall, spotted Jace, and started bouncing chalk off the back of his head. Unfortunately, though Jace managed to whip the chalk back at him with ferocious enough speed to impress everyone around him, the chalk simply flew through Peeves, and he continued to pelt Jace until Harry jinxed him.

The classes had proven to be confusing. Clary, who at least had an open mind about the entire affair, put in some effort and her results proved some aptitude. Jace, however, viewed it all as something as a joke, and waved his wand around, like he was directing some demented orchestra. Regrettably, his fun climaxed in an explosion in Charms, which turned Ron's pile of spell books into a pile of shredded paper, and had to be put right by Professor Flitwick.

By the time they were racing toward their final class for the day, Transfiguration, Clary was quite ready to crawl into her bed and never wake up again.

The class was small now that they had reached such an advanced level, and Professor McGonagall flew up the aisle between the students' desks, her face set in an expression of serious determination. Clary felt as if this were one teacher she did not want to annoy, and leaned over to tell Jace as much.

"Try not to piss her off too much," she said lightly. "She reminds me of-"

"She reminds me of Valentine on a bad day," Jace said with a slight smile, but after that, he remained attentive and kept his wand waving to a minimum.

"This year, we will begin work on some of the most complex Transfiguration yet," said Professor McGonagall, "and I expect you all remember much of your previous instruction. However, for those of you who might have let something slip," and here, her eyes rested briefly on Harry and Ron, "we will have a review today. We'll start with some simple live transfiguration. Everyone, come collect a mouse and transfigure it into a tea cup."

Jace stared incredulously at Harry and Ron, who offered him a sympathetic sideways smile and followed them up to the front of the room where Professor McGonagall was divvying out mice. As Jace and Clary approached the desk, Professor McGonagall's eyes rested on their faces, and they saw something like sympathy flick through her eyes before she gave each of them a mouse. Clary's struggled briefly in her hands and nibbled her fingers, and she dropped it unceremoniously on her desk.

"Just follow the diagram," Hermione said helpfully, opening her textbook to the first chapter and displaying a complicated illustration of a mouse being transformed into a tea cup. She kindly demonstrated the proper wand movement and briefly tapped the mouse before her. Clary watched, impressed, as the mouse became a tea cup with a faint design of fluffy field mice scurrying through a grass.

Clary tried to flick her wand, got her hand caught on the billowy sleeves of her robe, and sent a spark of green fire at the table. Behind her, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sniggered and Clary flushed magnificently. Hermione shot them both a look, but it wasn't nearly as effective at shutting them up as when Jace turned about in his seat, winked at Clary, and said, "Reminds me a bit of Simon. I don't suppose Isabelle would be interested in kissing one of these though, would she?"

"Simon was a rat," Clary reminded him, but she felt her lips curving up against her will in a fond smile

"I was trying to be polite," Jace said with a quick grin. "Better a mouse than a rat. Less disease."

"Simon did not-"

"Well, Mr. Lightwood," said Professor McGonagall, tapping the desk before him, her face as severe as ever. "Would you care to give a demonstration?"

Jace raised one eyebrow at her slowly, but her face remained the same, and he glanced sideways at Ron and Harry who had managed to transform their mice into furry little cups. At once, Jace cursed his bad luck; he'd never been distracted before when it had been just him, Isabelle, and Alec in class. Jace eyed the mouse, which seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation and was seated before him, taunting him, and wished he'd paid Hermione more attention over the summer when she'd been showing them transfiguration.

_Being invisible is a state-change, isn't it? It's the same thing, _he reasoned, and, unable to remember the words, but pretty confident of the hand movements, he twirled his wand, pictured the shadowhunter rune that, when applied, made the wearer invisible, and prodded his mouse.

There was a little squeak, like the mouse was saying goodbye, and a pop. When Jace looked down again, the mouse had simply vanished. He continued to stare at the space where the mouse had been, waiting for it to reappear, however, when the mouse remained thoroughly vanished, he brought his hands together in as serious a gesture as he could.

"Well, I think the important thing to remember is that the mouse has clearly _changed_-in one way or another." He offered Professor McGonagall a winning smiling, earning a wave of snickers from Harry and Ron.

Professor McGonagall, however, pressed her lips into a thinner line. "Perhaps, Mr. Lightwood, the best thing to remember is the _words for the spell_," she said, flicked her wand, and handed him the mouse, which had only been made invisible, not completely vanished, and had been trying to escape down the aisle of desks. "A bit more practice might not be amiss either." She then turned and stalked off.

For the rest of the class, Jace and Clary studiously watched Hermione performing the spell until they could both replicate it with some success: the handle of Jace's cup was a mouse's tail, and Clary's had whiskers, but they both deemed it a success. Professor McGonagall, at least, didn't seem to mind, and they were released with a faint warning that they might want to brush up on O.W.L level transfiguration before their next lesson.

"Are we done with class?" Clary asked hopefully as they entered the corridor filled with students.

"Yes. Why don't we go back to the common room and I can help you review for Transfiguration?" Hermione offered. "We've got some time before dinner to kill."

"Please," Clary said, wishing to be anywhere that wasn't surrounded by curious, staring students.

The group made their way up to the common room and threw their book bags down with relish. "This is brilliant," Ron declared, flopping down on one of the large, squishy arm chairs. "Free periods every day."

"We're supposed to be studying," Hermione said severely, and pointed Clary and Jace over to a word table. "You ought to consider that while you're lounging around."

Ron leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'll consider it tomorrow. Maybe." There was a shrill, girlish laugh from the portrait hole as Lavender and Parvati entered, and Lavender smiled shyly at Ron.

Parvati rolled her eyes at her friend, saw Hermione with Clary and Jace and joined them. Jace caught her eye and she blushed scarlet before settling down at the table. "You're new, aren't you?" she asked, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Clary. "I meant to ask you when we were in the dormitory together, but you looked spent. I'm Parvati Patil."

"Clary, and this is Jace," she said waving her hand vaguely. She knew Jace didn't really need as introduction as far as girls went. "We're from New York."

Parvati whistled. "That's a long way. Have you ever been to Europe before?"

"Not me," said Clary with a nervous smile.

"I have. I traveled a lot when I was younger," Jace offered.

"So why have you come all the way here?" she asked, glancing between the two. "Aren't there magic schools over there?"

Clary opened her mouth, momentarily stumped, but Hermione was faster. "This is the best school there is for magic," she said reasonably, and, because she sensed Parvati was too interested in Jace and Clary for their own good, added, "Clary, Jace, why don't we get started on that Transfiguration?"

"Excellent idea," Clary said briskly. "It was nice to meet you," she said quickly to Parvati. She stood waved goodbye to Clary and smiled shyly at Jace before leaving to find Lavender.

Jace lowered his voice. "People are going to know what we are soon. There's no way they're not going to notice in class, plus, that little prick, Malfoy is probably talking about it right now."

Hermione frowned. "Only to the Slytherins."

"It'll get out," Clary confirmed.

"We can deal with that when it comes," said Harry, who had overheard their conversation and joined them. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a shadowhunter. People will probably think it's cool and dangerous."

"They'll know who we are," said Clary bleakly. "If Malfoy knows that Bellatrix was sent for us, he'll know we're Valentine's children. I don't want the entire school to know my father is a psychopathic lunatic."

"He didn't raise you," Jace pointed out with a distasteful expression. "I'm the one who grew up with him."

Clary flashed a sympathetic look at him, but his face was carefully blank. She'd have to talk to him later, alone. "The point is, it's going to get out that we're related to him and everyone is going to hate us."

"They're not going to hate you," Hermione said kindly, and she gave Clary's wrist a gentle squeeze. "So far, everyone you've met has liked you, and no one is going to hate you because of some shadowhunter no one knows."

"She's right, you know," added Ron from his chair. "I had no idea who Valentine was until Hermione told me. I doubt people are here are going to be quick on the uptake."

It wasn't a very happy thought, but it was certainly a sobering one. Clary had never thought she'd meet a Downworlder who _hadn't _heard of Valentine. The thought of her father hearing about it made her smile grimly.

* * *

_What is Isabelle doing at werewolf pack central? _Simon wondered as he made his slow way through the city. _Unless she's decided she suddenly likes werewolves…which would be unfortunate given that I'm a vampire. _

Simon rolled his eyes at the thought and pressed onward down the gritty city sidewalk. The sun was out, part of the reason he'd asked to meet, and he was taking his time to enjoy it. The sun was one of the very few things left in his life he could enjoy carelessly, and he meant to take full advantage of the moment of peace before he walked into whatever it was Isabelle and her brother's had gotten in to.

_Clary on the run from a warlock, the Clave lying, mystery magic…why can't these people just get their shit together for once? _Simon thought, but it didn't help him forget that Clary _was_ on the run and he wasn't with her.

He had had a few days to think on his last conversation with Isabelle, but it always ended the same way. Clary had been taken by a secret group of warlocks to a secret school and no one in the Clave seemed to know where. Supposedly, she was in a great deal of danger and would be relying on these people to protect her. It was hard for Simon to swallow sometimes.

_The last time she ran off with someone, you'd still found her, _he thought bitterly. _She had still been in New York and you had found her. Now, she could be anywhere and there's no way of tracking her down._

Simon wondered suddenly if she was lonely at the new school. Did she miss having class with him? Was she even thinking about him? She was with Jace, after all, and he wasn't her brother. He could still remember the way those two looked at each other with something more than sibling fondness, with something even more than passion. Some bond had been formed between them and it went far deeper and it was far stronger than anything she and Simon had shared.

_And now, the only person in the whole world she knows is Jace. _Simon aimed his feelings at a soda can on the sidewalk and kicked it with surprising strength into the street.

When he arrived at the pack's safe house, Simon knocked uncertainly on the door. He thought he must have looked odd indeed, standing outside the crumbling ruins of a police station, but the door was opened by none other than Luke and he forgot his train of thought when Luke spoke, surprised.

"What are you doing here, Simon?"

"I was invited here," he said, glancing over his shoulder for a sign of Isabelle. "Isabelle asked me to come over. Unless, I've got the wrong werewolf safe house."

Luke smiled and pulled the door wide for him. "I thought something happened," he said by way of explanation.

"You mean something beside Clary being dragged off by a bunch of unidentified warlocks?" Simon couldn't quite keep the bite out of his tone, and Luke noticed.

"They weren't necessarily _unidentified_, and they couldn't have meant us harm. They entered the Institute without a problem." Luke led him deeper into the police station, thinking about the day in particular. "Besides, I'm sure she'll contact us as soon as she can."

Simon heard the note of hopefulness; Luke wasn't a fool, he knew Clary might be hurt already. "You think they'll let her?"

"They weren't taking her and Jace to prison," Luke said pragmatically. "They were being taken to a school. It's not like she won't be allowed to call or send a message or something. I'm expecting to hear from her once she settled."

"Can you go see her?" Simon asked, unable to hold back the question. "Are you going to make sure she's alright?"

"I don't think I'll be allowed to visit," Luke hedged. "It sounds like those wizards are in a tight spot right now with Lord Voldemort. It could pose quite a risk to myself and Clary if I were to make an appearance."

"So you're just going to leave her?" Simon demanded.

Luke fixed him with a dark look. "Clary is like a daughter to me, Simon. I have no intention of leaving her somewhere with people I don't know. I'm going to find out where she is, and as soon as it's _safe_ I'll see if I can't go get her. There are now two wars being fought, and I'm trying to counter both fronts. Valentine will be looking for me and them, Lord Voldemort has been sending search parties for anyone attached to Clary and Jace. We are in a _delicate situation_, and no matter how we move now, I think we'll be out in the open."


End file.
